Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/abroadagainOOguil 


ABROAD  AGAIN; 


OR, 


A  FRESH  FORAY  IN  FOREIGN  LANDS. 


BY 


CURTIS    GUILD, 

EDITOR   OF   THE   BOSTON   COMMERCIAL    BULLETIN,    AND   AUTHOR 
OF    "over    THE   OCEAN." 


BOSTON : 

LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK:  CHARLES  T.  DILLINGHAM. 
1S77. 


Copyright, 
Bt    CURTIS    GUILD, 

1S77. 


Electrotyped  at  the  Boston  Stereotype  Foundry, 
19  Spring  Lane. 


P:t^EFACE. 


Such  of  us  as  have  longed  to  "go  abroad,"  remember,  in  our 
young  days,  and,  it  may  also  be  said  with  equal  truthfulness,  in 
maturer  years,  that  we  have  sometimes  promised  ourselves  a  good 
thorough  gossip  and  chat  with  friends  who  had  just  returned  from 
foreign  lands  ;  and  that  we  were  disappointed,  even  after  most 
laborious  effort,  in  obtaining  the  information  which  we  expected 
familiarly  imparted,  or,  in  fact,  any  except  what  we  knew  before, 
and  which  anybody  that  had  perused  a  reasonable  portion  of  the 
current  literature  of  the  day  would  have  been  able  to  impart,  with- 
out having  crossed  the  ocean. 

This  sort  of  people  have  been  to  Rome. 

"  O,  yes  !    It  is  a  fine  old  city,  and  full  of  interesting  ruins,  you  know." 

"  The  Vatican  .''  Certainly.  The  Pope  lives  there,  and  the  works 
of  art  there  are  truly  wonderful." 

"  How  did  the  Colosseum  look .'' " 

"  Why,  it  is  oval  in  form,  you  know,  and  a  large  portion  of  it  is 
ruins  —  a  most  interesting  place." 

Such  are  samples  of  the  information  you  may  get  from  your  trav- 
elled friend,  who,  you  fondly  imagined,  would  describe  to  you  his 
experiences  and  sight-seeings  so  much  more  intelligibly  than  it  is 
done  in  the  books.  Those  interesting  trifles  which  the  untravelled 
are  so  fond  of  reading  about,  it  must  be  remembered,  become  so 
much  a  matter  of  course,  so  familiar  to  the  traveller  abroad,  that  he 
can  hardly  bring  himself  to  beheve  they  are  of  importance  enough  to 
allude  to,  or  of  interest  enough  to  put  in  print.  But  in  these  days  of 
abundant  newspaper  correspondence,  and  epistles  from  every  part  of 
the  globe  by  those  trained  soldiersof  the  press  who  have  tested  every 
phase  of  popular  taste,  even  that  for  trifles  above  mentioned,  it  is 
hardly  to  be  expected  that  such  an  exhausted  hunting-ground  as 
Europe  will  yield  at  this  late  day  much  that  has  not,  in  some  shape, 
been  previously  presented  to  the  reader. 

The  author,  on  his  first  visit  abroad,  notwithstanding  his  journey 
was  over  fields  that  had  been  trodden  and  retrodden  by  American 
tourists,  in  his  investigations  for  his  own  information,  and  his  fora- 
ging for  facts  that  he  himself  desired  to  obtain,  found,  upon  present- 
ing them,  that  they  possessed  a  sufiScient  degree  of  freshness  and 
importance  to  be  most  acceptably  received  by  the  reading  public. 

In  this  record  of  a  second  tour  abroad,  the  reader  is  taken  through 
^n  entire  new  series  of  scenes  and  experiences  from  those  described 


IV 


PREFACE. 


in  "  Over  the  Ocean."  Some  time  is  spent  in  visiting  curious  his- 
toric localities  in  London  ;  a  pen-picture  of  English  home  life  is 
given,  and  some  of  the  modern  wonders  of  the  great  metropolis  are 
described  more  minutely  than  perhaps  lias  previously  been  done. 

To  Rome,  that  ever  fruitful  field  for  historian,  antiquary,  and 
novelist,  considerable  space  has  been  given  in  these  pages,  although 
no  author  can  reasonably  expect  to  present  much  that  is  new  from 
a  field  that  has  been  so  industriously  gleaned.  If  fresh  interest  can 
be  excited  with  regard  to  those  wonders  of  art  and  classical  scenes 
of  antiquity  already  familiar  from  frequent  description,  by  a  new 
presentation,  possessing  sufficient  originality  to  command  attention, 
it  is  all  that  at  this  time  can  be  reasonably  expected. 

Although  the  gayeties  of  that  paradise  of  many  American  travel- 
lers, Paris,  are  not  described,  nor  the  magnificent  scenery  and  moun- 
tain-passes of  Switzerland,  or  picturesque  beauty  of  the  river  Rhine, 
as  in  the  author's  former  volume,  yet  the  reader  is  taken  to  quaint 
old  cities  like  Verona  and  Innspruck,  and  among  the  lofty  peaks  and 
glaciers  of  the  Tyrol  and  Upper  Engadine,  through  the  great  art 
galleries  of  Dresden  and  Berlin,  and  into  that  curious  country  so 
much  of  whose  territory  has  been  wrested  from  the  sea,  —  Holland. 

Allusions  are  frequently  made  in  these  pages  to  information  sought, 
but  not  found  in  the  guide-books.  While  it  will  be  admitted  that  if 
those  publications  gave  everything  everybody  desired  to  find  in  them, 
they  would  become  encyclopedias,  yet  to  many  tourists  a  portion  of 
the  information  furnished  by  some  of  them  is  unintelligible.  This 
arises  from  the  fact  that  the  compilers  seem  to  have  assumed  that  all 
tourists  have  a  liberal,  or  university  education.  As  regards  Ameri- 
can tourists,  a  large  majority  of  those  able  to  travel  abroad  have  only 
enjoyed  the  benefits  of  a  common-school  education,  hence  copies  of 
inscriptions  in  antique  Latin  without  translation,  names  of  buildings, 
statues,  antiquities,  public  resorts,  &c.,  given  in  the  foreign  vernacu- 
lar in  an  English  guide-book,  or  sentences  in  Greek,  Latin,  French, 
or  Italian  as  the  last  words  of  great  men,  or  descriptive  of  paintings, 
or,  in  fact,  for  any  purpose  of  illustration,  are  to  such  majority  not 
only  an  annoying  puzzle,  but  a  constant  reminder  of  their  lack  of  that 
knowledge  possessed  by  others  who  have  enjoyed  more  advantages. 
Even  the  savant  and  student  prefer  the  most  direct  and  simple  style 
of  information  to  any  other. 

With  this  in  view,  the  author  has  sought  to  present  his  thoughts, 
impressions,  and  descriptions,  not  only  in  a  graphic  and  interesting, 
but  in  a  straightforward  and  simple  manner.  His  foray  for  fresh  ma- 
terial in  foreign  lands  for  readers  at  home,  resulted  in  the  discovery 
of  an  abundance  of  supplies  ;  wliether  the  selections  therefrom  were 
skilfully  made,  or  are  properly  presented,  it  is  for  the  reader  to  deter- 
mine. C.  G. 


cokte:n^ts. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Unpleasant   Recollections.  —  Doubts    dispelled.  —  "Why  Americans  go  Abroad. 

—  Tlie  Voice  of  Experience.  —  Sharp  Practice.  —  Picture  Marts. —  Union  Stores. 

—  Tricks  upon  Travellers.  —  Hints  about  Shopping.  —  Prenez-Garde.  —  Nota- 
ble Exceptions.  —  Bugbears  of  Travel.  —  Foreign  Physicians.  —  Planning  the 
Tour 1-18 


CHAPTER     11. 

Excursion  Parties.  —  A  Specimen  Character.  —  A  Yankee  Inquisitor.  —  Turning  the 
Tables.  —  Representatives  of  America.  —  "  Most  Interesting  Thing  in  Europe."  — 
E.xperts  in  Travelling. —  Inexperienced  Tourists.  —  Hotel  Impositions.  —  Ser- 
vants and  Sovereigns.  —  Accepting  the  Situation.  —  Letters  of  Credit.  —  Bankers' 
Courtesies.  —  Seasoned  Tourists.  —  A  True  Sailor.  —  Catechizing  the  Captain. 
—  Steamship  Experiences.  —  Pleasant  Days  at  Sea.  —  Liverpool.  —  Hotels.  — 
Torments  of  Tantalus.  —  The  Circumlocution  Sy.stem.  —  Every  One  to  his 
Calling 19-47 


CHAPTER    III. 

English  Custom  vs.  American  Requirements.  —  Behind  the  Age.  —  The  Wonders 
of  London.  —  Old  Smithfleld.  —  Historic  Ground.  —  Wonders  of  a  London 
Market.  —  The  Strand.  —  Temple  Bar.  —  Chancery  Lane.  —  Realizing  Dickens's 
Stories.  —  Historic  Landmarks.  —  Classic  Ground.  —  The  Knights  Templars. — 
Temple  Church.  —  Scene  of  Initiation.  —  Templar  Effigies.  —  Refinement  of 
Cruelty.  —  Grave  of  Goldsmith.  —  The  Thames  Embankment. —  London  Bridges. 
—  The  West  End.  —  Restaurants. — The  City 47-75 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Well-bred  People.  —  English  Home  Life.  —  English  Servants.  —  Lunch.  —  English 
Stable- Yard.  —  Dressing  for  Dinner.—  An  English  Dinner.  —  The  Dessert.  — ''  We 
will  join  the  Ladies."  —  Finale  of  tlie  Feast.  —  An  Amusing  Blunder.  —  An  Eng- 
lish Breakfast.  —  Taking  Leave.  —  English  Domestic  Service 76-92 


CHAPTER    V. 

Catching  a  Train.  —  Against  Regulations.  —  The  Policeman   in  Plain  Clothes.  — 
Under  Surveillance.  —  An  Uncomfortable  Position Five-Pound  Penalty.  92-97 

V 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

A  Kidc  in  London.  —  Old  Holborn  linrs.  —  Bowbells  and  Old  Jewry.  — The  Eng- 
lish Guilds.  —  Ueckett's  IJirthplaec.  —  liallad  of  lieckott.  —  The  Bu.siness  Centre 
of  London.  — A  Cheap  Xei;,'hborhood.  —  Five  Miles  from  Chariujj  Cross.— 
Bethnal  Green  Museum.— An  Admirable  Institution 9S-108 

CHAPTER    VII. 

Eoyal  Albert  ILiIl.  — Grand  Auditorium.  — Well-planned  Interior.  —  Costly  Monu- 
ment. —  Superb  Statuary.  —  Effective  Groups.  —  Statue  Group  of  America.— 
Art  and  Poetry.  —  Prodigality  of  Decoration.  — Elaboration  of  Art.— A  Costly 
Tribute 109-119 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

Rome.  — Tlio  City  of  our  Dreams.— First  Sensations.  —  Reality  t>s.  Uomancc. — 
Sight-seeing  in  Rome.  —  Tomb  of  Hadrian.— Magnificent  Mausoleum.  —  St. 
Peter's. —  The  Grand  Pavilions.  — The  Great  Obelisk. —  The  Vestibule.  —  First 
View  of  the  Interior.  —  Beneath  the  Dome.— Vast  Proportions.  —  Kissing  the 
Toe  of  St.  Peter's  Statue.  —  The  Tribune. —Tombs  and  Monuments.  — Marble 
Miracles.—  How  to  visit  St.  Peter's. —  A  Village  in  the  Air. —  A  Dizzy  Prom- 
enade    120-141 

CHAPTER    IX. 

The  Pantheon.  — A  Glorious  Pagan  Temple.  — Vandalism.  — The  Capitolino  Hill. 

—  Legends  and  Localities.  —  The  Square  of  the  Capitol.  —  The  Wolf  of  the  Capi- 
tol.—Capitoline  Museum. —  Hall  of  the  Emperors.  —  Portrait  Busts.  —  Sculj}- 
tured  Stories.—  Tlie  Endymion  Sarcophagus.-  A  Youthful  Prodigy.  —  Preserv- 
ers of  Art. —  Hall  of  the  Centaurs.  —  The  Dying  Gladiator.  —  Marble  Faun.— 
Classic  Ruins.— Roman  Forum. —  The  Rostrum. —  The  Nameless  Column.— 
TIio  Arch  of  Titus.  — Arch  of  Septimius.  — Arch  of  Constantine. —  Borrowed 
Sculpture.  —  The  Marmetine  Prison.  —  Trajan's  Column.  —  Unearthing  Old 
Rome.  — A  Pillar  of  History.  — An  Egyptian  Relic. —  Convent  of  the  Capu- 
chins.-Capucliin  Church. -Ladies  not  Admitted.  —  A  Hall  of  Horrors.— 
Suppression  of  the  Convent 142-179 

CHAPTER    X. 

The  Vatican.  —  The  World's  Art  Museum.  —  Obstructions  to  Visitors.  —  The  Pope's 
Guard.  — Costumes  in  Rome. —  The  Last  Judgment.  —  A  Great  Artist's  Great 
Work.  —  Museum  of  Statues.  —  The  Athlete.  —  Graml  Army  of  Statues.  —  Price- 
less Art  Wealth.  —  Tiberius  Caesar.  —  "  A  Mass  of  Breathing  Stone."  —  Reading 
Up.  — Sarcophagi  of  the  Sclpios.  —  The  Boxers.— The  Laoeoiiu.  — A  Story  in 
Slarble.  —  Apollo  liclvedere.  —  Lord  of  tlie  Unerring  I'xnv.  —  A  ."Monacjerie  in  Mar- 
ble. —  Hall  of  Statues.- Nero  as  Apollo. —Hall  of  the  Pluses.- The  Muses  in 
Marble.— A  Suspected  Character.  — Sala  Rotunda.  — Hall  of  the  Greek  Cross.— 
M.ignificent  Mosaic. —  Hall  of  the  Chariot.  — The  Quoit  Throwers.  —  Fatigue 
of  Sight-Seeing.  —  The  Etruscan  Museum.  —  Ancient  vs.  Modern  Workmanship. 

—  Etruscan  Art.  —  Ancient  Vases.  —  The  Egyptian  Museum.  —  The  Vatican 
Library.  —  Literary  Wealtli.  —  Itaphael's  Masterpiece.  —  Gallery  of  Vases.— 
Notable  Art  Treasures.  —  Hall  of  Maps.  —  Hall  of  Tapestries.  —  Grand  Pictorial 
Effects.  — Obst!u;les  to  Enjoyment.- Advantages  of  Preparation 170-22S 


CONTENTS.  VU 

CHAPTER    XL 

The  Colosseum.  —  Relics  of  the  Past.  —  The  Giant  of  Roman  Ruins.  —  The  Colos- 
seum described.  —  Roman  Vandalism.  —  The  Royal  Road.  —  Architectural  Skill. 
—  A  Dream  of  the  Past,  —  Exploring  the  Colosseum.  —  Behind  the  Scenes.  —  The 
Christians  to  the  Lions. —  Horrors  of  the  Arena.  —  An  Imperial  Joker.  —  Sys- 
tematic Sight-Seeing.  —  Caracalla's  Baths.  —  Ancient  Popular  Resort.  —  Paluco 
of  the  Caesars.  —  Streets  of  Ovid  and  Virgil's  Time. —  House  of  Livia.  —  The 
Appian  Way.  —  Tomb  of  Caecilia  Mefella. — Itoman  Aqueducts.  —  Picturesque 
Views. —  St.  Paul  Extra  Muros. — Constantine's  Cathedral. —  A  Struggle  with 
Time.  —  Koyal  Chapels.  —  The  Santa  Scala. —  Ascending  the  Holy  Stairs. — 
Temple  of  Vesta.  —  Bridge  of  Horatius.  —  Guido's  Aurora.  —  Guido  and  Ra- 
phael  ^•JS-202 


CHAPTER    XII. 

The  Pincian  Hill.  —  Farewell  to  Rome.  —  From  the  Sublime  to  the  Ridiculous. 
—  Venice.  —  Exploring  the  By-ways.  —  Gondoliers.  —  Scenes  on  the  Grand 
Canal.  —  Italian  Music.  —  Heart  of  the  Venetian  Republic.  —  The  Voice  of  the 
Bells 20.'}-2r2 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A  Singular  Story.  —  The  Fearful  Three.  —  Ghosts  of  the  Past.  —  Terrible  Dungeon. 
—  A  Dangerous  Experiment.  —  Venetian  Prison.  —  Mysterious  Visitors.  —  Pris- 
oner of  the  Inquisition. —  A  Terrible  Situation.  —  A  Dash  for  Liberty.  —  A  Cham- 
ber of  Horrors. — A  Desperate  Struggle.  —  Tlie  Foe  in  the  Dark.  —  A  Puzzling 
Position.  —  Leaden  Moments.  —  Trapped  in  a  Prison  Cell.  —  A  Terrible  Night.  — 
Daylight  at  Last.  —  Vain  Efforts  for  Freedom.  —  Starvation  in  Prospect.  —  Ex- 
haustion and  Despair.  —  Succor  at  Last.  —  The  Luxury  of  Liberty.  —  •'  Such  Stuff 
as  Dreams  are  made  of."  —  The  Lady  in  the  Case 27.3-297 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

The  Arsenal  .it  Venice.  —  Remnant  of  a  Great  Power.  —  Maritime  Importance  of 
Venice.  —  Ancient  Armor  and  Wondrous  Weapons.  —  The  Bucentaur.  —  Verona. 

—  Street  Scenes.  —  Roisterers  of  Verona.  —  Jlontagues  and  Capulets.  —  Juliet's 
Balcony.  —  Tomb  of  the  Capulets.  —  The  Verona  Amphitheatre.  —  Modern  Per- 
formance in  an  Ancient  Circus.  —  Delia  Scala  Family  Jlonumeuts. —  A  Mur- 
derer's 3Iausolcum.  —  Scenic  Streets.  —  Relic  of  the  Middle  Ages.  —  Cathedral  .it 
Verona.  —  Church  of  St.  Anastasia.  —  The  Tyrol.  —  .\  Night  in  Botzen.  —  Ty- 
rolean Scenery.  —  The  Alps  ag.iin.  —  Tnnspruck.  —  An  Amphithe.itre  of  Alps. — 
The  Golden  Roof.  —  Historic  Beauty. —  Royal  Felicity.  —  Ambras  Castle. — 
Andreas  Hofer.  —  Spider- Web  Pictures. —  The  Court  Church. —  Giants  in  Bronze. 

—  The  Silver  Chapel.  — A  Grateful  Picture 298-3:J7 


CHAPTER    XV, 

Seeking  Companions. —  Post  Horses  for  St.  Moritz.  —  Memorable  Mountain. — 
Perilous  Position.  —  Route  to  the  Engadiue. —  The  Finstermiinz  Pass.  —  "The 
Day  we  Celebrate  "  in  the  Alps.  —  lloch  Fiustermiiuz.  —  Wonders  of  an  Alpine 


Viil  CONTENTS. 

Pass.  — Tarasp  Sprinf^s.  — The  Engadinc  Valley.  — Samadon. —TTans  Christian 
Andersen.  —  St.  Moritz.  —  A  Fashionable  Resort.  —  Crowded  Out.  —  A  Miniature 
Hotel.  —  Scenes  .at  the  Springs.  —  Study  of  Clniracters.  —  Improving  an  Opportu- 
nity.—  Uomantic  IJide.  —  Bernina  Brook.  —  The  Morteratsch  Glacier, —  The 
Albula  Pass.  —  From  Mountain  to  VftUey.  —  The  Schyn  Pass.  — Gate  of  the 
Via  Mala.  —  The  Splugen  Koad.  —  Arrival  at  Prague.  —  A  Hurried  Visit.  33s-3~3 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

Dresden.  —  Protection  of  Art  Treasures. —Japanese  Palace.  —  Museum  of  Por- 
celain. —  Streets  in  Dresden.  —  The  Dresden  Gallery.  —  Raphael's  Madonna.  — 
The  Holbein  Madonna.  —  Masterpieces  of  Great  Masters.  —  Old  vs.  New  School. 
—  Art  Treasure  House.  —  The  Tournament  Hall.  —  Historic  Armor  Suits.  —  The 
Saloon  of  Costumes.  — An  Aladdin's  Cave.  — The  Green  Vaults.  —  Costly  Bur- 
lesques. —  Jewels  sown  broadcast.  —  Court  of  the  Great  Mogul.  —  Dresden  Beer 
Gardens.  —  Americans  in  Dresden.- Berlin.  — Unter  den  Linden.  — Statuary  in 
Berlin.  — Old  Friends  in  a  New  Place.  — The  Brandenburg  Gate  — The  People 
of  Berlin.  —  Public  Buildings.  —  Streets  and  Shops.  —  Tbiergarten.  —  Mausoleum 
at  Charlotteuburg 374-407 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

The  Museums  of  Berlin.  —  Allegorical  Illustrations.  —  Gallery  of  Gods  and  Heroes. 
—  Hall  of  the  Emperors.  —  The  Antiquarium.  —  Classic  Antiquities.  —  Ancient 
Gems.  —  Antique  Coins.  —  Picture  Galleries.  —  A  Wealth  of  Art.  —  Kaulbach's 
Frescos.- The  Reformation. -Tower  of  Babel.  —  Battle  of  the  Huns.  — The 
Greek  Saloon. —  Unknown  Antiquities.—  A  Monarch  1200  b.  c  — Egypti.an  His- 
torical Halls. —  "In  Thebes  Streets  Three  Thousand  Years  Ago."  — Prussian 
Historic.ll  Relics.  —  Frederick  the  Great.  —  Glass  and  Enamel  Work.  — Curiosi- 
ties of  Art.- Potsdam.  —  Sans  Souci.  —  The  Orangery.  — A  Monument  of  Jus- 
tice.-Inside  Look  at  Royalty. —  The  Five  Palaces.  —  Berlin  to  Hanover.— 
House  of  Leibnitz.  —  A  Beautiful  Drive 408-443 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Amsterdam.  —  Dutch  Windmills.— Dutch  Characteristics.  —  Canals  of  Amster- 
dam. —  Drawbridges  and  Canal  Bouts.  —  Peasant  Women.  —  Commercial  Impor- 
tance.—Canals  to  the  Sea.  — Magnificent  Public  Work.  —  Dutch  Agriculture.— 
The  Palace.-  Rembrandt's  Night  Watch.—  Old  Dutch  Masterpieces.  —  An  Excur- 
sion to  Broek.  —  A  Cow  Saloon.  —  Dutch  Cheese-Making.  —  Dutch  Farm-House.  — 
An  Immaculate  Village.- The  Hague. —  Statues  and  Monuments 443-403 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

Rembrandt's  School  of  Anatomy.  —  Paul  Potter's  Bull.  —  Gems  of  Art.— Dutch 
Historical  Relics.  —  The  "House  in  the  Woods."  — Schoveningen.  —  A  Dutch 
Watering  Place.  —  Magnificent  Railway  Bridge.  —  Back  to  Paris,  —  Guide-Books. 
—  Good-bye  to  the  Reader 403-474 


ABROAD    AGAIIf. 


CHAPTER    I. 


Abroad  again  !  What !  have  you  forgotten  all  those 
wretched  da^'s  on  shipboard,  when,  stretched  out  in  your 
state-room,  weak  from  sea-sickness,  you  longed  so  much  for 
the  comfort  of  your  sweet  chamber  at  home,  whei'e  there 
was  no  mingled  perfume  of  ocean  and  oakum  ?  Home, 
where  you  could  put  your  foot  down  with  a  certainty  that 
the  floor  wouldn't  reel  away  from  you  ;  where  wash-bowl 
and  pitcher  and  towels  would  stay  in  their  places,  and  where 
everything  on  the  floor  didn't  slide  about,  and  everything 
hung  up  didn't  swing  back  and  forth  till  the  sight  of  it 
produced  nausea? 

Have  you'  forgotten  that  vow  you  registered,  that,  having 
seen  Europe  once,  you  were  satisfied,  and  that  books,  and 
engravings,  and  lectures,  and  descriptions  would  satisfy  you 
in  future  ? 

Do  you  remember  telling  friends  that  the  best  thing  to 
make  one  appreciate  a  good  home  was  to  be  away  from  it 
for  six  or  eight  months,  and  that  one  of  the  most  agreeable 
sights  you  saw  on  your  last  journey  was  the  spires  of  your 
native  city  on  your  return  trip  ?  Do  you  call  to  mind  those 
wretched  days  in  the  cabin  of  the  steamer,  during  the  gale, 
when  no  one  of  the  passengers  went  on  deck  but  an  old 
sea-captain,  who  was  going  to  Liverpool  to  take  command 

1 


2  UNPLEASANT    EECOLLECTIONS. 

of  a  ship,  the  travelling-  agent  of  an  Eng-lish  mercantile 
house,  who  had  crossed  twenty  times,  and  the  young- 
American  who  had  served  in  the  navy  ;  and  how  we  all 
thought  if  we  only  got  ashore  safely  this  time,  we  neveT 
would  be  caught  in  such  a  predicament  again  ? 

Do  you  know  how  wretched  it  w-as  to  be  ill  at  a  Tyrolean 
inn,  with  no  one  nearer  than  a  hundred  miles  wdio  spoke 
your  native  languag-e,  and  a  doctor,  whose  French  was 
worse  than  your  own,  to  attend  you  ? 

Have  you  forgotten  the  swindles  of  hotel-keepers,  the 
fatig-ue  of  diligences,  the  brevity  of  German  beds,  and  the 
liveliness  of  Italian  ones  ;  the  indigestible  messes  on  some 
inn  tables,  and  the  garlic  flavor  of  others  ;  the  bother  with 
luggage,  quarrels  with  couriers  ;  the  back-aching  inspection 
of  picture-galleries,  the  lies  of  the  valet  de  place,  and  the 
omissions  of  just  what  you  wanted  to  know  in  guide-books  ? 

To  be  sure  you  have  ;  but,  like  those  bitter  tonics  which 
we  swallow  with  a  shudder,  these  memories  only  serve  to 
rouse  a  fiercer  appetite  than  ever. 

The  memory  of  sea-sickness  exists  but  as  a  disagreeable 
dream,  and  you  feel  confident  now  that  your  knowledge  and 
experience  will  make  you  to  combat  it  successfull3^  The 
humdrum  life  of  home  has  become  monotonous.  You  feel 
that  the  first  journey  to  Europe  was  merely  preliminary  — 
necessary  to  teach  how  you  ouglit  to  travel  to  see  it 
sensibly.  And  now  you  know  hoAv  to  travel  abroad,  how 
much  better  and  more  thoroughly  will  j^ou  see  everything ! 
Books,  engravings,  lectures,  forsooth  !  What  are  they  to 
seeing  the  place  itself?  What  scores  of  interesting  things 
you  saw  in  Westminster  Abbey,  old  St.  Paul's,  the  Venetian 
palaces,  St.  Peter's,  among  Roman  ruins,  and  even  on  the 
Parisian  boulevards,  that  the  letter-writers  and  the  book- 
makers never  think  of  writing  about. 

Appreciate  a  good  home  ?  To  be  sure  you  do.  And  the 
very  thing  you  mean  to  do  now  is  to  buy  something  abroad 
to   decorate   it   with   and   show   your   appreciation.     There 


DOUBTS    DISPELLED.  3 

were  those  bronzes  in  Paris,  that  you  always  regretted  not 
talcing;  there  Avas  that  picture  in  Florence  that  you  find, 
after  all,  you  might  have  afforded;  and  those  Roman  mosaics 
and  antiquities,  which,  if  your  trunk  had  only  been  larger, 
you  might  have  bought ;  and  then,  those  —  Ah  !  but  next 
time  you  will  look  out  for  all  those  things.  You  mean  to 
do  good  shopping  as  well  as  sight-seeing. 

The  gale  ?  Well,  that  was  only  two  days'  discomfort, 
after  all ;  and  how  pleasant  were  the  next  three  days 
after  it !  How  everybody  was  on  deck,  and  how  the  ocean 
seemed  to  have  got  smoothed  down  as  flat  as  a  table-cloth  ! 
AH  the  passengers  were  at  the  cabin-table,  and  several 
young  men,  who  had  been  sick  till  then,  absolutely  smoked 
cigars  after  dinner  ;   and  the  deck  was  steady  as  a  rock. 

How  the  old  sea-captain,  when  asked  if  we  had  been  in 
any  danger,  said,  "  Not  to  such  a  ship  as  th's  ;  "  and  how 
the  agent  of  the  English  mercantile  house  told  tlie  lady  who 
had  vowed  "if  she  only  got  on  shore  this  once,  she  never 
would  go  on  the  ocean  again  —  never!"  the  story  of  the 
Irishman  on  shipboard  in  a  storm,  who  vowed  a  gift  of 
twenty  pounds  to  the  Virgin  Mary  if  he  was  permitted  to 
reach  land  safely,  and,  being  reminded  some  months  alter 
of  the  nonpayment  of  the  vow,  shrewdly  remarked  that 
"the  Vargin  wud  niver  "  catch  him  "on  the  say  agin." 

What  was  two  days'  homesickness  at  a  Tyrolean  inn  ? 
One  must  have  a  bilious  attack  somewhere.  As  to  hotel- 
keepers,  let  them  try  any  of  their  games  on  you  now  —  old, 
seasoned  traveller  as  you  deem  yourself!  You  know  more 
of  cafes  and  restaurants  now,  and  can  avoid  garlic  mes- 
ses without  difficulty.  Couriers  you  will  have  none;  and 
galleries  and  museums  you  will  inspect  more  leisurely,  and 
valets  de  place  shall  be  made  to  know  their  place. 

In  fact,  when  one  has  set  his  heart  upon  doing  a  thing, 
•^sJiBcially  if  it  be  something  that  he  has  thought  he  should 
L'no^  do,   it  is  really  astonishing  what  a  number  of  reasons 
■  liO*can  bring  forward  to  sustain  his  change  of  opinion. 


4  BENEFITS  OF  FOREIGN  TRAVEL. 

To  one  fond  of  travel,  or  to  ,a  person  of  any  degree  of 
education  and  culture,  the  European  tour  is  a  source  of 
never-ending  enjoyment,  months  and  years  after  it  is  over. 
With  how  much  more  interest  do  you  read  of  events  that 
transpire  in  the  old  world,  that  are  enacted  in  the  very 
streets  or  in  the  historic  buildings  that  you  have  visited 
and  fixed  in  your  mind  while  sight-seeing  !  With  wliat  new 
beauty  do  copies  of  statues,  pictures,  and  busts  become 
imbued,  after  you  have  seen  the  grand  originals  !  With 
what  fresh  attraction  is  history  invested,  or  even  novels, 
the  scenes  of  which  are  laid  in  those  countries,  cities,  or 
very  spots  that  you  have  crossed  the  ocean  to  see  ! 

Enthusiasm  in  the  returned  tourist  should  never  be  mis- 
taken for  snobbishness,  as  it  sometimes  is  by  those  who 
have  never  been  abroad.  I  confess,  before  having  travelled 
abroad,  to  have  sometimes  thought  of  those  who  had,  and 
who  were  eloquent  over  the  artistic  beauty  of  foreign 
pictures,  the  magnificence  of  ancient  architecture,  and  the 
grand  conception  that  created  celebrated  statues  which  they 
expatiated  most  eloquently  upon,  over  some  wretched  and 
familiar  plaster  model,  —  that  their  admiration  might  be 
affectation,  and  their  expatiation  bat  a  parade  of  where  they 
had  been  and  what  they  had  seen  more  than  their  less 
travelled  listeners. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  foreign-travelled  snobs  who 
are  as  amusing  to  sensible  persons  as  the  home-travelled 
members  of  the  same  genus.  The  latter  will  be  readily 
recognized  as  those  who  are  continually  telling  when  they 
were  last  at  Saratoga  ;  or  that  General  Bustah  remarked  to 
them  in  Washington  ;  or  that  "  our  carriage  was  ordered  in 
season  for  Senator  Swyndell's  reception."  They  ask  you 
if  you  don't  think  Sharon  Springs  a  prettier  (!)  place  than 
the  White  Sulphur,  and  if  you  have  many  friends  at  Long 
Branch.  "  Chawming  place,  Newport;  but,  if  you'll  .be- 
lieve it,  we  took  a  cottage  at  Niagara  Falls  last  season." 

The  foreign-travelled  snob  is  fond  of  referring  to  wheu 


TRAVELLED    SNOBS.  5 

he  was  in  Vienna,  or  Paris,  or  London  ;  and  how  much  it 
cost  for  the  opera  ;  and  of  his  having-  a  courier ;  or  being 
in  Rome  with  the  Highbreds  ;  or  "  Came  down  to  Geneva 
with  Finifines ;  "  pr  of  the  ride  he  took  in  the  "  Bowar 
dcs  Bolone  "  with  Colonel  Throdice.  He  never  refers  to 
libraries,  statues,  museums,  or  pictures,  except  that  he  may 
lialt  opposite  one,  perliaps,  in  your  drawing'-room,  squint 
knowingly  at  it  through  his  closed  fist,  and  ask  where  you 
"  picked  that  up."  This  class  of  snob,  male  and  female, 
travels  and  visits  celebrated  places,  as  it  does  at  home,  not 
to  perfect  itself  in  knowledge  ;  not  from  a  desire  to  see 
localities  and  historic  places  of  which  it  has  read  and 
studied  ;  not  from  any  admiration  of  sculpture,  painting, 
fine  arts,  or  natural  scen3ry  :  but  because  it  is  the  fashion; 
or,  rather,  it  thinks  it  out  of  fashion  not  to  have  been  in 
Europe. 

The  lady  snob  of  this  class  is  better  posted  on  dress- 
makers and  milliners  in  Paris  than  she  is  on  the  natural 
scenery  of  Switzerland,  and  will  be  better  able  to  tell  you 
of  her  reception  at  a  royal  "drawing-room,"  —  for  which 
she  obtained  tickets  through  the  moneyed  influence  of  her 
husband,  and  which  cost  her  no  end  of  expense,  —  than  to 
describe  an  Alpine  mountain  pass  that  she  has  journeyed 
over,  an  Italian  picture  gallery  that  she  has  sauntered 
through,  or  a  cathedral  that  she  only  remembers  from 
having  lunched  with  a  party  with  whom  she  went  to 
see  it. 

Another  class  of.  travellers  are  those  whom  you  would 
Bay,  were  it  not  questioning  the  inalienable  right  of  the 
universal  Yankee,  had  no  right  to  be  abroad.  And,  indeed, 
it  might  be  better  for  our  country  if  they  had  never  been 
permitted  to  travel.  These  are  a  class  of  people  practically 
ignorant  of  their  own  country  and  its  institutions,  and  whose 
only  knowledge  about  others  is  that  they  are  "foreign 
parts,"  that  "  Queen  Victoria  lives  in  a  palace,  and  the 
Pope  of  Rome  in  St.  Peter's,"  and  who  arc  amazed  to  find 


6  "WHY    AMERICANS    GO    ABROAD. 

that  the  people  of  Italian  cities  are  not  dressed  like  the  brig-- 
ands  in  the  picture  books,  and  those  of  Switzerland  like  the 
characters  they  have  seen  represented  at  the  circus  or  on 
the  theatrical  stage. 

The  ainiual  spring  and  summer  rush  of  tourists  from 
America  to  Europe  has  now  come  to  be  almost  an  American 
fashion,  and  doubtless  there  are  many  who  make  the  trip 
simply  to  be  in  the  ftishion  ;  but  we  are  not  at  all  inclined 
to  join  with  the  opinion  of  some  of  our  American  journalists 
who  ridicule  and  scold  their  countrymen  for  spending  money 
abroad,  laboriously  figuring  up  statistics,  showing  how  much 
American  gold  is  disbursed  by  American  tourists  to  English 
and  Continental  hotel-keepers  and  merchants,  and  lamenting 
that  so  large  a  portion  of  our  means  should  be  expended 
for  foreign  luxuries  instead  of  articles  of  domestic  produc- 
tion, and  condemning  the  moneyed  American  because  he 
does  not  expend  all  his  money  in  his  own  country. 

Americans  who  have  money  to  spend  and  time  to  spare 
like  to  go  to  Europe,  because  there  are  more  histoiic,  artis- 
tic, and  natural  sights  to  be  seen,  and  more  easily  seen 
there,  and  also  because  they  can  obtain  some  things  which 
are  utterly  unattainable  at  home. 

If  the  American  in  his  own  countrj' desires  to  spend  the 
summer  at  the  sea-shore  or  a  watering-place  with  his  family, 
owing  to  the  shortness  of  the  season  and  the  determination 
of  landlords  to  make  a  handsome  profit  each  season,  he  finds 
the  expense  very  nearly  as  much  as  a  three  months'  trip  in 
Europe  would  cost  him.  And  what  has  he  had  for  the  money 
at  home  ?  Small,  inconvenient  rooms  in  a  great  caravansary 
of  an  hotel,  where  the  attendance  is  abominable,  the  extra 
charges  frightful,  the  place  nois}'- with  brass  bands,  "  hops," 
and  various  fashionable  excitements  from  picnics  to  prayer- 
meetings,  to  make  the  blood  more  fevered  in  the  heat  of 
summer ;  wliile  ill-cooked  food,  the  confusion  of  constant 
arrivals  and  departures,  and  the  utter  absence  of  any  of  that 
restful  quiet  that  the  body  craves,  cause  him  ere  the  season 


THE    VOICE    OF    EXPERIENCE.  i 

is  over  to  long  for  the  quiet  of  his  own  home,  and  wonder 
why  he  deserted  it.  It  is  not  to  be  asserted  by  any  means 
that  there  is  no  discomfort  in  European  travel  or  hotels,  for 
off  the  great  lines  of  travel  routes  the  same  annoyances 
exist  as  in  America,  but,  as  a  general  thing,  at  the  great 
popular  resorts  a  far  more  satisfactory  return  may  be  had 
for  the  money  expended  than  in  this  country. 

Tliere  is  so  much  useful  information  that  can  be  given  by 
one  who  has  been  "  over  the  route  "  to  those  who  are  about 
to  start,  and,  moreover,  as  every  one  who  has  travelled 
abroad  knows,  there  are  so  many  dearly  bought  experiences 
that  might  have  been  avoided  had  the  advantage  of  a  little 
instruction  from  an  expert  been  enjoyed  previous  to  setting 
out,  that  the  author  feels  warranted  in  commencing  this 
work  with  a  few  hints  to  travellers  upon  minor  matters. 
They  are  the  results  of  his  own  personal  experience,  and 
may  be  of  value  to  those  who  visit  the  localities  here  re- 
ferred to.  First,  on  the  ever  prolific  subject  of  shopping 
abroad.  Jewelry  and  pictures,  to  those  who  have  the  money 
to  spend,  are  generally  among  the  most  attractive  objects 
that  claim  attention.  The  price  of  jewelry  in  London  is 
frightfully  high.  Geneva  is  the  place  for  that  article  :  first, 
because  of  your  surety  of  getting  the  genuine  18-caratgold  ; 
and  next,  because  they  are  a  community  of  jewellers  there, 
and  labor  and  living  are  cheaper.  It  should  be  understood, 
however,  that  watches  can  now  be  made  better  and  cheaper 
in  America  than  in  Switzerland. 

Diamonds  the  Parisian  jewellers  think  they  can  sell  as 
reasonably  as  any  dealers  in  Europe,  but  I  rather  favor  the 
honest  Dutch  dealers  of  Amsterdam,  the  headquarters  of 
diamond-cutting  in  the  world,  and  where  I  have  seen  the 
finest  diamonds  —  not  in  the  royal  treasuries  —  I  ever  looked 
on,  and  where  diamond-cutting  and  dealing  is  as  much  a 
specialty  as  watches  in  Geneva  or  gloves  in  Paris.  Here  at 
Zenten  &  Jouen's,  a  solid  old  jewelry  house  at  438  Iler- 
rengracht,  as  their  Dutchy  old  card  says,  I  looked  on  dia- 


8  JEWELEY    AND    PAINTINGS. 

monds  that  were  as  dewdrops  upon  the  velvet  into  which 
it  seemed  they  would  momentarily  sink  and  disappear.  So 
charmed  was  an  American  senator  with  these  gems  and  the 
quiet  courtesy  of  the  dealers,  that  a  few  thousand  dollars 
gave  his  wife  that  coveted  possession,  a  pair  of  solitaires, 
which  the  Parisian  jewellers  were  compelled  to  admit  they 
could  not  excel  in  purity  or  compete  with  in  price. 

Beware  of  gold-mounted  coral  ornaments  or  gold  jewelry 
in  the  Piazza  St.  Marco  inVenice.  The  former,  which  are 
palmed  off  on  the  unsuspecting  buyer,  are  often  not  over 
three  or  four  carats  fine  ;  but  you  will  buy  pounds  of  glass 
beads  at  the  bead  factories  of  the  Queen  of  the  Adriatic,  recol- 
lecting, however,  that  the  ivory  inlaid  furniture,  at  the  old 
bric-a-brac  stores  that  guides  entice  you  into,  that  looks  so 
pretty  there,  will  drop  to  pieces  in  your  own  drier  climate 
or  furnace-heated  house. 

London  can  hardly  be  said  to  be  a  desirable  place  for  an 
American  to  purchase  oil-paintings  in.  Good  ones  bring 
higher  prices  there  than  in  any  other  city  on  the  habitable 
globe.  It  appears  to  be  headquarters  for  water-color 
pictures,  which  are  just  now  in  high  favor,  and,  if  the  lovers 
of  that  style  of  art  wish  to  have  their  very  hair  stand  on 
end  with  astonishment,  let  them  ask  the  prices  of  some  of 
the  productions  of  artists  of  acknowledged  celebrity  in  this 
line  of  their  profession. 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  Americans  find  Brussels  and 
Florence  more  profitable  picture  marts  than  any  other  cities 
in  Europe.  In  London  the  wealthy  tradesmen  and  the  no- 
bility never  seem  to  question  price,  if  the  painting  is  by  a 
known  artist,  and  they  want  it ;  and  the  prices  obtained 
when  some  well-known  collector's  gallery  is  sold,  are  posi- 
tively astonishing. 

Care  should  be  taken  by  inexperienced  purchasers  of  pic- 
tures on  the  continent,  to  make  their  agreement  to  include 
packing  and  delivering  on  board  steamer  at  Liverpool,  Bre- 
men, or  whatever  port  they  intend  their  purchase  shipped 


SHAEP   PRACTICE.  9 

from,  and  free  of  all  consul,  port,  or  express  charges  ;  other- 
tvise  he  may  receive  his  purchase  in  America  with  a  very- 
handsome  charge  of  extras  for  boxing,  bill  of  lading,  consul's 
certificate,  insurance,  and  even,  as  in  the  author's  case,  from 
a  Hebrew  merchant,  of  five  per  cent,  on  the  value  of  the 
painting  for  "  reimbursement  "  or  guaranty  of  the  sight- 
draft's  passing  through  his  hands,  and  a  few  francs  more  for 
postages.  It  is  almost  useless  to  attempt  to  purchase  any 
good  picture  that  is  exposed  at  the  exhibitions  in  Paris  at 
anything  like  a  bargain,  as  sharp  picture-dealers,  always  on 
the  lookout  for  any  painting  that  is  likely  to  sell,  or  that  is 
from  the  pencil  of  any  artist  of  reputation,  purchase  them  of 
the  artist,  or  arrange  to  take  them  as  fast  as  produced,  or  to 
sell  all  his  works  through  their  house.  The  purchaser  is  thus 
forced  to  pay  a  round  sum  to  the  middleman,  unless  he  has 
some  friend,  familiar  with  the  artists  in  Paris,  who  will  go 
with  him  personally  to  their  studios,  and  find  some  who  are 
not  hampered  by  any  such  conditions. 

French  artists  who  have  pictures  at  the  exhibition  are 
also  very  much  like  their  shopkeeper  countrymen,  thinking 
that  if  a  visitor,  having  seen  their  production,  has  thought 
enough  of  it  to  come  to  them  with  a  view  of  purchasing, 
especially  if  the  visitor  be  an  American,  he  will  pay  a  high 
price,  and  therefore  often  lose  a  sale  by  the  extravagant  fig- 
ure which  they  put  upon  their  productions,  or  make  one  to 
an  experienced  purchaser  at  a  third  or  perhaps  half  the  price 
originally  charged. 

One  sees  in  Paris,  though,  it  must  be  confessed,  some  of 
those  superb  specimens  of  the  modern  school  of  French  art 
that  cause  him  to  think  that  the  price  which  may  be  de- 
manded is  none  too  great  a  reward  to  the  genius  that  created 
them.  However,  let  the  inexperienced  purchaser  engage 
the  service  of  a  trusty  friend  and  expert  in  purchases  of  this 
kind,  unless  he  is  so  abundantly  supplied  with  cash  as  to 
render  price  no  object. 

In  Dresden,  the  beautiful  paintings   on  porcelain  and  an 


10  PICTURE    MARTS. 

elegant  description  of  water-color,  are  sold.  "  The  Choco- 
late Gip],"  "  Rembrandt  and  Wife,"  Raphael's  "  Madon- 
na," "  Cherubs,"  "  Madonna  and  Child,"  and  other  familiar 
masterpieces,  are  copied  upon  porcelain  with  that  beautiful 
finish  for  wliich  this  style  of  painting  is  noted.  All  along  a 
street  called  the  Prager-Strasse  are  porcelain-picture  stores, 
some  of  them  kept  by  decorative  artists  themselves,  who 
will  copy  paintings  for  you  to  order,  or  copy  miniatures  from 
photographs  in  the  beautiful  style  of  porcelain  painting,  if 
you  give  the  color  of  the  eyes,  hair,  and  complexion  of  the 
subject,  —  at  a  price  ranging  from  fifty  to  one  hundred 
marks  eacli.  But  beware  of  paying  in  advance  for  any  such 
orders,  as  the  promises  of  a  Dresden  porcelain  painter  are  as 
"false  as  dicers'  oaths." 

Rome  is  so  well  understood  to  be  a  city  where  pictures 
of  artists  and  works  of  sculptors,  of  different  nationalities, 
who  are  sojourning  there,  may  be  purchased,  that  I  will  not 
go  into  details.  The  tourist,  if  he  be  an  expert  in  pictures, 
and  has  an  eye  for  an  opportunity,  will  often  find  excellent 
ones  in  cities  not  specially  noted  as  art  centres,  but  where 
artists  live  or  go,  who  send  forward  their  works  for  sale. 
Diisseldorf,  Hamburg,  Antwerp,  Verona,  Amsterdam,  The 
Hague,  Munich,  Bremen,  and  other  cities,  some  of  which 
might  sound  more  oddly  to  experts  as  places  to  find  good 
pictures,  nevertheless  produce  and  contain  them,  and  many 
is  the  good  and  rare  one  picked  up  off  the  beaten  track  of 
fine-art  travel. 

English  shopping  I  have  pretty  thoroughly  discussed. 
Although  the  co-operative  stores  have  not  been  referred  to, 
they  deserve  brief  reference.  They  are,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, establishments  where  those  belonging  to  the  union  or 
society  may  purchase  at  retail  at  a  small  percentage  over 
wholesale  prices,  and  the  system  has  been  so  far  extended 
and  perfected  that,  with  some  of  the  most  powerfid  unions, 
large  dealers  have  made  arrangement  that  all  members  of 
the  co-operative  body  may  call  at  the  dealers'  regular  retail 


UNION    STORES.     '  11 

stores,  and,  on  presentation  of  the  card  of  the  union  with 
which  each  member  is  provided,  have  a  discount  of,  in  some 
instances,  as  large  as  twenty  per  cent,  immediately  taken 
from  the  usual  retail  price. 

By  this  arrangement  the  union  is  saved  the  expense  of 
transportation,  handling,  and  storage  of  the  goods,  and  its 
members  enjoy  the  same  benefit  as  though  purchasing  at  the 
co-operative  salesrooms.  The  dealer,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  insured  a  quick  cash  trade  of  such  magnitude,  from 
the  number  of  members  of  the  imion,  that  he  can  afford  to 
sell  at  a  very  small  profit,  the  aggregate  being  a  handsome 
quick  return,  and  very  much  larger  than  he  might  have  ex- 
pected in  the  ordinary  course  of  trade  at  five  or  ten  per 
cent,  higher  prices.  These  co-operative  unions,  be  it  under- 
stood, are  not  trades-unions,  but  simply  an  association  of 
persons  who  begin  by  a  contribution  to  start  the  enterprise, 
hire  a  store,  and  employ  clerks.  Then  goods  of  the  best 
quality  are  bought  in  lai'ge  quantities  for  cash,  and  sold 
to  members  of  the  association  only  at  the  smallest  possi- 
ble profit  necessary  for  running  expenses,  and  if  profit 
beyond  this  is  made,  of  course  it  goes  back  in  dividends  to 
the  members  of  the  association.  The  plan  has  been  found 
to  work  well,  and  the  successful  stores  are  such  good  and 
prompt-paying  customers  that  the  great  food  manufacturers 
especially  are  more  than  ready  to  make  the  most  advan- 
tageous terms  with  their  managers. 

Shopping  in  London  is,  on  the  whole,  more  satisfactory  to 
the  purchaser  than  in  any  other  city  in  Europe,  from  the 
fact  that  all  respectable  shopkeepers  believe  in  the  value  of 
reputation,  and  where  competition  is  so  close,  wisely  believe 
that  it  will  not  pay  to  imperil  their  business  by  any  dishon- 
orable act. 

The  Viennese  completely  overreached  themselves  on  the  oc- 
casion of  their  great  exhibition  in  1873.  In  their  grasping 
eagerness  to  make  as  much  money  as  possible  out  of  the  whole 
world  that  was  to  visit  the  Austrian  capital,  they  crowded 


12  TRICKS   UPON   TRAVELLERS. 

up  prices  to  such  a  fearful  advance  that  strangers  and  for- 
eigners utterly  refused  to  buy  ;  so  that,  with  a  city  full  to 
overflowing  with  visitors,  the  shopkeepers  were  actually  com- 
plaining of  dull  trade.  The  hotel-keepers  took  such  advan- 
tages of  strangers,  in  the  way  of  charging  treble  and 
quadruple  rates  for  rooms,  and  putting  on  extra  charges 
generally,  that  government  was  compelled  to  step  in  and 
establish  a  tariif  which  the  landlords  were  obliged  to  have 
printed  and  posted  in  every  room,  under  penalty  of  the  law, 
and  even  then  they  contrived  to  evade  it.  The  fact,  how- 
ever, of  the  impositions  and  high  pi'ices  upon  strangers  be- 
came thoroughly  known,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  free- 
masonry among  ti'avellers  to  resist  it,  to  such  a  degree  that, 
although,  after  a  while,  many  shopkeepers  put  prices  down, 
the  ti'avelling  public  actually  refused  to  buy,  or  to  be  tempted 
to  purchase  even  real  novelties,  and  stayed  in  the  city  as 
brief  a  period  as  possible,  and  then  left  it,  shaking  off  the 
very  dust  from  their  sandals  at  its  gates. 

It  is  now  i^retty  generally  known  that  honesty  and  fair 
dealing  on  the  part  of  Parisian  shopkeepers,  milliners, 
and  dressmakers,  in  fact  all  tradespeople  in  that  gay  capital, 
are  the  exception,  and  the  American  who  trusts  to  their 
word,  their  honor,  or  even  their  expressed  word  of  honor, 
will  lean  upon  a  broken  reed. 

Let  ladies,  if  they  buy  a  piece  of  silk,  alwaj^s  take  a 
sample  of  the  piece,  a  bill  of  the  number  of  yards,  and  be 
sure  not  to  pay  unless  it  is  measured  under  their  own  eyes 
and  taken  home  by  themselves,  till  they  have  examined  it 
after  it  has  been  sent  home  and  compared  with  sample.  Be- 
ware of  ever  paying  in  advance  for  anything,  as  it  insures 
your  being  cheated.  Those  verdant  and  simple-minded 
American  ladies  who  go  into  Paris  shops,  and,  with  their 
imperfect  school-girl  French,  inspect  goods,  select  what 
pleases  them,  and  pay  what  is  asked,  or,  worse  than  that, 
do  as  thej'  would  at  Stewart's  in  New  York,  or  Ilovey's  in 
Boston,  order  ten  yards  of  this,  a  dozen  of  that,  and  a  piece 


HIXTS    ABOUT    SHOPPING.  13 

of  the  other,  are  received  by  obsequious  shopmen  and  cj'in- 
ging  clerks  with  an  excess  of  civility,  and  swindled  without 
mercy,  —  served  with  short  measure,  charged  double  price, 
goods  inferior  to  those  selected  sent  home,  and  every  possi- 
ble advantage  taken. 

I  might  enumerate  dozens  of  instances  of  the  swindling 
of  American  ladies  by  dressmakers  and  milliners,  their  cliaii- 
ging  of  trimmings  furnished  them  for  others  of  inferior  quality, 
scrimping  out  from  one  to  three  yards  from  dress  patterns  ; 
but  let  ladies  beware  how  they  furnish  dressmakers  with 
materials  according  to  their  demand,  lest  they  furnish  a 
third  more  than  required ;  and  always  keep  a  bit  of  the 
material  furnished,  that  they  may  compai'e  with  the  garments 
when  made  up.  Never  pa}'^  for  a  package  of  goods  when  re- 
ceived at  your  hotel  without  opening  it  and  carefully  verif}'- 
ing  the  contents,  and  ascertaining  that  the  goods  are  exactly 
the  same  in  quantity  and  quality  that  you  purchased.  No 
matter  how  late  the  hour  in  the  evening,  or  how  far  the 
messenger  has  come,  if  he  brings  you  short  quantity  or 
measure,  or  inferior  quality,  and  promises  by  all  the  saints 
in  the  calendar  to  bring  the  remainder  in  the  morning,  do 
not  trust  1dm.  His  promise  is  but  mere  breath,  and  French 
tradesmen  are  so  thoroughly  accustomed  to  this  sort  of  de- 
tection that  they  make  any  deficiency  good  without  a  mur- 
mur, and  meet  you  again  without  a  blush  or  with  some 
trivial  excuse  for  their  rascality. 

If  3'ou  are  ordering  goods  made  up,  or  purchasing  just 
prior  to  leaving  the  city,  always,  if  possible,  name  throe  or 
four  days  previous  to  the  da}*^  as  the  latest  you  can  wait,  as 
those  dealers  who  intend  to  impose  on  you  will  contrive  to 
send  at  the  latest  possible  moment  before  3'our  departure,  in 
order  to  prevent  the  very  examination  recommended  above, 
and  will  have  the  silk  dress,  or  handkerchiefs,  or  embroideries, 
or  whatever  it  may  be,  packed  up  very  nicely  for  Madame's 
portmanteau,  and  regret  that  they  are  so  very  late,  so  that 
you  may  thrust  the  package  into  the  last  trunk  or  portman- 


14  PEENEZ-GARDE. 

teau  and  pay  for  it  without  inspection,  as  they  have  con- 
trived that  many  careless  Americans  should  do. 

Ladies  who  make  the  rounds  to  fashionable  modistes, 
milliners,  and  others,  should  bear  in  mind  that  most  of  these 
people  have  one  of  their  number  certainly  who  speaks  and 
understands  English,  and  they  themselves,  from  their  con- 
stant contact  with  English-speaking  purchasers,  either  speak 
it  or  understand  it  tolerably  well.  It  is  a  common  practice 
at  many  of  these  places,  when  a  shopping  party  of  Ameri- 
cans come  in,  if  any  of  them  speak  French,  for  the  milliners 
and  their  assistants  to  feign  an  ignorance  of  English,  in  order 
that  they  may  get  at  the  minds  of  their  customers  and  use 
them  accordingly. 

Thus,  I  have  seen  a  party  ask  in  the  French  tongue 
through  one  of  their  number  the  price  of  an  article,  and  on 
being  told,  confer  with  each  other  in  English,  supposing  that 
they  were  not  understood,  and  agree  it  was  better  than  that 
they  saw  elsewhere,  or  not  so  good,  or  if  they  couldn't  make 
the  seller  take  twenty  francs  off  the  price,  they  Avould  take 
it  at  any  rate  :  every  word  of  which  was  understood  by  the 
shrewd  but  apparently  unconscious  saleswoman,  who  made 
use  of  the  knowledge  thus  obtained  to  her  best  advantage. 

A  common  trick  in  Paris  is  to  have  costumes  in  the  shop- 
window  labelled  at  a  very  Ioav  figure,  tempting  the  purchaser 
to  step  in,  only  to  find  that  that  is  but  a  sample,  but  that 
one  can  be  made  precisely  like  it  in  a  day  or  two.  Of 
course,  when  the  costume  comes  home,  it  is  of  infei'ior  qual- 
ity, or  imperfectly  made,  or  the  trimmings  not  equal  to  the 
sample,  in  fact,  an  egregious  imposition.  But  there  is  no 
remedy  :  you  ordered  the  goods  ;  the  costume  is  cut  and  made 
to  your  measure ;  you  have  no  sample,  or  witness  of  your 
agreement;  and,  "  rather  than  have  a  fuss,"  the  bill  is  paid, 
and  the  tradesman  reaps  a  round  profit  by  his  deception  ; 
for  this  is  just  what  they  rely  upon,  that  American  ladies 
or  tourists  about  leaving  the  city  will  pay,  rather  than 
"  have  a  fuss  made  about  it." 


NOTABLE   EXCEPTIOXS.  15 

There  are,  of  course,  notable  and  honorable  exceptions 
among-  Paris  trades-people  ;  certain  establishments  who  actu- 
ally seem  to  have,  by  some  means  or  other,  learned  that  deal- 
ing decently  fair  with  American  purchasers  will  insure  a 
steady,  profitable,  paying  business  worth  catering  for.  In 
fact,  they  have  probably  been  surprised  at  the  apprecia- 
tion of  Americans  of  a  virtue  (honesty)  which  their  coun- 
trymen seem  to  have  no  conception  of.  Encouragement 
of  such  rare  instances  may  lead  others  to  follow  their 
example. 

Beware  of  the  Hotel  Bellevue  in  Brussels,  or,  if  stopping 
there,  be  sure  and  make  bargains,  and  have  a  thorough 
understanding  respecting  price  of  rooms  beforehand.  En 
passant,  the  Grand  Hotel,  ci-devant  Hotel  New  York,  in 
Venice,  is  an  admirably  kept  house,  and  iu  1873  so  honor- 
ably managed,  free  from  imposition,  and  so  much  effort 
made  to  please  American  guests,  that  it  was  really  an  agree- 
able relief  to  have  found  such  a  place  after  the  many  jDcr- 
plexities  one  necessarily  encounters  with  unscrupulous 
hotel-keepers  in  various  other  foreign  capitals.  Its  situa- 
tion is  on  the  Grand  Canal,  just  far  enough  removed  from 
the  Piazza  to  be  quiet  and  comfortable,  and  within  easy 
access  to  all  the  points  of  interest  in  the  city. 

But  to  return  to  Paris,  which  is  the  great  stamping-ground 
for  American  shoppers.  I  have  tried  all  the  three  methods 
of  purchasing,  and  have  learned,  from  practical  experience, 
which  is  the  best  for  one  not  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
Paris  and  not  speaking  the  French  tongue  as  his  own.  The 
first  method  is  shopping  by  yourself,  by  which  you  are  sure 
to  make  mistakes,  take  double  the  time  necessary'',  and  got 
very  much  fatigued  and  dissatisfied.  The  next  method,  of 
taking  a  guide  or  conwiissionaire,  insures  you  more  con- 
venience, and  also  that  he  will  cheat  3'ou  instead  of  the 
tradesman.  The  third  and  only  thoroughly  satisfactory 
method  is  through  a  reliable  American  commission  merchant, 
of  which  there  are   several  in  Paris  established  for  just  this 


16  BUGBEARS   OF    TRAVEL. 

kind  of  business,  and  through  them  tourists  may  do  bettor 
than  by  any  other  method. 

The  European  tourist,  it  may  be  apropos  to  say  here,  will 
encounter  many  bugbears  in  his  travels.  At  Liverpool  he 
will  learn  that  London  is  too  full  or  too  empty,  unhealthy, 
owing  to  the  fog,  or  damp,  owing  to  the  rain.  Scotland  is 
raw  or  chilly,  or  it's  too  early  or  too  late  in  the  season. 
Rome  ?  The  malaria  is  very  dangerous  there  ;  never  go  out 
after  sunset.  Going  to  Florence  ?  It  is  full  of  diphtheria. 
Vienna  ?  Heard  there  was  cholera  there.  Venice  ?  Mos- 
quitoes ;  or  don't  drink  the  water,  it's  sure  to  make  you 
sick.  Munich  ?  The  regular  fever  city  of  Europe  ;  badly 
situated  ;  everybody  has  typhus  fever  that  stays  there  over 
a  week.  Geneva  ?  Hottest  place  in  Europe  in  the  summer 
season.  Paris  ?  Never  drink  Parisian  water  ;  or  they  are  on 
the  eve  of  another  revolution  :  look  out  not  to  get  shut  up 
there.  Naples  ?  Drainage  is  atrocious,  breeds  disease  ;  take 
care  Iiot  lodge  in  the  city.  Amsterdam  ?  Yes,  very  inter- 
esting city,  but  the  sheets  are  often  put  on  the  beds  damp. 
Going  through  Switzerland  ?  Look  out  they  don't  give  you 
glacier  water  to  drink,  it  is  very  unhealthy.  Italy  ?  Yes, 
Italy  is  a  pleasant  country  to  travel  in  if  it  were  not  for  the 
fleas.  The  Tyrol  ?  Very  difficult  place  to  get  along  in  ; 
they  speak  neither  German  nor  French,  and  who  can  under- 
stand their  Tyrolean  ? 

These  are  only  specimens  of  the  consoling  assertions  that 
I  have  received,  and  doubtless  others  will  receive,  from 
fellow-countrymen  abroad  who  have  been  to  the  places  they 
ascertain  you  intend  visiting,  and  who  seem  resolved  to  give 
you  all  the  disagreeable  rumors  respecting  them  which  they 
can  collect  together,  and  which  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  will 
be  found  to  be  either  exaggerations  or  merely  the  fruit  of 
too  vivid  an  imagination.  There  are  certain  precautions,  of 
course,  to  be  taken  during  the  rapid  changes  that  the  tourist 
may  make  from  one  climate  to  another,  or  from  one  style  of 
food  and  methods  of  cooking  to  another,  if  his  digestion  is 


FOREIGN    PHYSICIANS.  17 

not  perfect ;  but  these  his  guide-books  and  his  own  judg- 
ment will  suggest,  without  his  permitting  himself  to  be 
made  wretched  by  the  doubts  and  fears  or  continuous  phan- 
toms which  are  so  easily  conjured  up. 

In  the  great  capitals  of  Europe  it  is  a  comparatively  easy 
matter  to  obtain  the  most  excellent  medical  attendance  and 
pharmaceutical  preparations.  Physicians'  fees  in  London 
and  Paris  are  :  five  dollars  a  visit,  payable  at  the  time  of  the 
visit,  in  the  former  city,  and  four  dollars  in  the  latter.  The 
same  price  is  charged  in  Rome,  that  is,  by  the  best  physi- 
cian, a  gentleman  well  known  to  Americans,  whose  name  I 
cannot  refrain  from  mentioning  here  —  Dr.  Valery,  whose 
good  offices  every  American  who  has  occasion  to  require 
them  speaks  of  most  gratefully  ;  and  in  Venice,  if  the  tourist 
has  occasion  for  medical  advice,  let  him  secure  the  services 
of  Dr.  Ricchetti,  a  most  skilful  member  of  the  medical  pro- 
fession, who  speaks  English  perfectly,  and  is  moreover  a 
kind-hearted  and  liberal-minded  gentleman. 

No  one  can  tell,  except  he  who  may  have  the  misfortune 
to  be  suddenly  prostrated  upon  the  bed  of  sickness  in  a 
foreign  land,  how  grateful  and  soothing,  as  well  as  reassur- 
ing and  strengthening  to  the  patient,  is  the  presence  of  a 
physician  whose  voice  is  gentle,  whose  knowledge,  as  a 
native,  of  the  effects  of  his  climate  upon  you,  as  a  foreigner, 
is  perfect,  whose  very  questions  show  him  to  be  a  man  of 
professional  skill,  and  who  scorns  to  make  the  least  pre- 
tension of  a  mystery  of  medical  treatment,  or  of  the  science 
of  the  profession  to  patients.  Of  Dr.  Ricchetti's  possession 
of  Llie  above  characteristics,  and  his  skill  and  success  in 
quite  a  serious  case  of  a  dear  friend  in  Venice,  I  have  had 
practical  demonstration.  In  Innspruck  Dr.  Berreiter,  and 
in  Paris  Dr.  Accosta,  are  physicians  whom  Americans  can 
have  every  confidence  in,  if  they  have  occasion  to  call  one. 

One  favorite  plan  of  American  tourists  who  have  but 
from  three  to  eix  months  to  spend  abroad,  is  to  start  imme- 
diately for  Rome,  and  leave  England,  to  many  the  most 
2 


18  PLANNING   THE    TOUR. 

interesting  of  European  countries,  for  the  last  portion  of 
their  visit.  The  consequence  is,  that,  sated  with  sight-see- 
ing, fatigued  with  travel,  and  their  last  experience  the 
gayety  and  glitter  of  the  French  capital,  on  arriving  in 
England,  as  the  majority  of  three  and  six  months'  tourists 
do,  late  in  the  fall,  when  the  air  begins  to  be  chill  and 
damp,  the  contrast  is  unfavorable ;  while,  mayhap,  they 
have  lingered  so  long  on  the  continent  that  but  a  fortnight 
or  three  weeks  remain  to  see  that  which  as  many  months 
would  not  exhaust.  London  is  then  merely  raced  through  ; 
flyiug  trips  to  Edinburgh,  York,  and  one  or  two  other  places 
made ;  an  imperfect  or  erroneous  impression  obtained  ; 
enough  seen  to  make  one  regret  more  time  had  not  been 
devoted  there,  and  the  tour  wound  up  with  two  or  three 
weeks  of  such  hard  work  as  neutralizes  all  pleasure  of 
travel,  and  leaves  the  tourist  in  ill  condition  for  the  return 
voyage. 

The  European  travelling  season  commences  with  Ameri- 
cans early  in  April,  and  tourists  who  arrive  in  England  then 
have  time  to  go  direct  to  Rome,  and  stay  from  a  fortnight 
to  a  month  before  hot  weather  sets  in  ;  whereas,  if  they 
commence  with  England  in  the  middle  of  April  or  May  1, 
a  longer  stay  abroad  than  three  or  six  months  must  be  made, 
to  bring  Rome  into  the  catalogue  of  places  visited,  if  one 
wishes  to  avoid  the  summer  months,  and  have  suflScient 
time  to  see  even  the  principal  sights  of  the  city. 


FOREIGN   EXCUKSION   PARTIES.  19 


CHAPTER    II. 

Foreign  travel  is  doubtless  a  most  valuable  instructor,  and 
few  Americans  of  average  common  sense  can  travel  to  any 
extent,  either  at  home  or  abroad,  without  adding  to  their 
stock  of  knowledge  and  receiving  a  certain  amount  of  prac- 
tical instruction  of  real  value.  But  certainly  I  have  met 
American  parties  abroad  as  unfit  for  foreign  travel,  and  who 
would  receive  as  Httle  intellectual  benefit  from  it,  as  a  stu- 
dent in  mathematics,  who  has  advanced  no  further  than 
simple  addition,  would  from  a  week's  instruction  in  a  calcu- 
lation of  logarithms. 

The  cheap  excursion  system  has  enabled  a  large  number 
of  this  class  of  travellers  to  visit  Europe  ;  and,  although 
not  fur  a  moment  denying  that  it  has  enabled  many  worthy 
and  well  educated  persons  of  limited  means  an  opportunity 
for  foreign  travel  and  sight-seeing  which  they  might  never 
have  been  enabled  to  enjoy,  yet  many  of  the  most  outre 
and  verdant  specimens  of  humanity  that  even  in  our  own 
great  cities  would  have  excited  observation  from  all,  and 
even  ridicule  from  the  unthinking,  attracted  by  the  wonder- 
fully low  figure  of  a  Cook  excursion  ticket  to  Europe  and 
the  Vienna  Exposition,  scraped  together  their  three  or  four 
hundred  dollars,  or  withdrew  it  from  the  country  savings- 
banks,  and  swarmed  into  the  old  country  like  crusaders  after 
this  new  Peter  the  Hermit,  who  preached  the  attraction  of 
the  distant  capital  to  them  which  they  were  to  advance 
upon,  and  painted  the  journey  in  glowing  colors.  There 
were  men  from  Vermont  who  had  never  seen  the  Green 
Mountains  ;  from  Western  New  York  who  couldn't  tell  you 
the  height  of  Niagara  Falls  ;  an  Illinois  farmer  who  had 
never  been  in  any  city  in  his  life  but  Indianapolis,  and  that 


20  A   SPECIMEN   CHAKACTEB. 

only  twice,  till  he  started  on  the  European  excursion  trip. 
Great  tall  fellows,  with  mourning-clothed  finger-nails,  who 
chewed  tobacco  and  spat  on  the  marble  floors  of  cathedrals, 
and  were  the  very  types  of  characters  which  English  writers 
have  described  in  their  books  on  America  as  representatives 
of  our  country  ;  descriptions  which  may  have  vexed  us  and 
caused  more  than  one  to  avow  them  to  be  caricatures,  over- 
drawn sketches,  or  malicious  misrepresentations.  Yet  here 
they  were  in  jvopria  persona,  stalking  through  the  Vienna 
Exposition,  sticking  their  boots  up  on  railroad-car  seats,  or 
stumbling  over  kneeling  worshippers  in  St.  Peter's. 

One  of  this  class  came  into  our  railway  carriage  between 
Munich  and  Vienna,  a  tall,  somewhat  ungainly-looking  man, 
with  the  national  characteristics  of  the  American  country- 
man as  prominent  as  if  the  word  had  been  painted  upon 
his  forehead.  In  the  railway  carriage,  besides  ourselves, 
was  an  Englishman  and  his  daughter,  our  pleasant  travelling 
companions,  on  both  whom  the  new-comer  soon  opened  fire, 
beginning  with  the  usual  fusilade  of  questions. 

"  You  ain't  an  American  —  are  ye  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  not." 

"  English,  I  s'pose  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Going  to  Vienny  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  s'pose  ye  mean  to  go  to  the  World's  Fair  there  — 
don't  ye  i* " 

"  I  think  we  shall  go  to  the  Exposition  while  we  are 
there." 

"  What  hotel  shall  you  put  up  at?  " 

"  We  shall  go  to  the  Hotel  Metropole." 

"  Haow  ? " 

"  The  Metropolitan  Hotel, "  I  volunteered,  in  explanation 
for  my  English  friend,  who  was  beginning  to  be  amused. 
The  dialogue  was  resumed. 

"  0  !    ah !      Yes  ;    I  don't  understand   French  ;  but  our 


A   YANKEE    INQUISITOR.  21 

party  —  we're  the  eddicational  excursion  party  —  hev  an 
interpereter,  who  goes  'long-  with  us  all  the  time,  and  trans- 
lates everything." 

Englishman.     "  Sir,  you  are  very  fortunate." 

Yankee.     "  Yaas.     Whole  trip  from  Amerikee  and  back 
only  four  hunderd  dollars." 
Eng.      "  Very  reasonable." 

Yan.     "Big  pile  o'  money  fur  some  on  us;  but  I  was 
bound  to  come.     Ever  been  to  Vienny  before?" 

Eng.   "Yes." 

Yan.   "IIow  big  a  place  is  it?" 

Eng.   "It's  a  city  of  six  hundred  thousand  inhabitants." 

Yan.  "You  don't  say  so!  By  the  by,  Yienny  is  the 
capital  of  Orstrey  —  ain't  it?" 

Eng.   "  It  is." 

Yo.n.  "  Which  way  are  you  goin'  when  you  leave 
Yienny?  " 

Eng.   "  North." 

Yan.   "  Travellin'  for  pleasure  or  business?  " 

Eng.   "  Principally  for  pleasure." 

[The  reader  will  please  to  recollect  that  this  is  no  fancy 
sketch,  but  a  report  of  a  conversation  which  actually  oc- 
curred as  here  set  down.] 

Yan.  "  What  part  of  England  do  you  come  from?  " 

Eng.   "  The  city  of  London." 

Yan.   "  In  business  there?" 

Eng.   "  No,  sir,  I  am  not." 

Yan.   "  Carryin'  on  any  business  out  of  town?" 

Eng.   "  No,  sir." 

Yan.   "  What  is  your  business  when  you  are  to  home?" 

Eng.   "  I  am  not  in  any  business." 

Yan.   "0!     Retired?" 

Eng.   "  Yes." 

[One  would  have  thought  that  the  American,  having  now 
run   his   quarry   completely  down,  would  have    "  retired ' 
also  ;  but  no,  he  returned  to  the  charge  again.] 


22  TUEXING    THE    TABLES. 

Yan.  "  What  business  was  j^ou  in  before  you  retired?" 

Eng.   "  I  was  a  book  publisher." 

Yan.  "  In  business  long?  " 

Ung.   "  Forty  years." 

Yan.  "  Wal,  you've  got  some  time  yet  to  enjoy  yourself. 
How  old  do  you  call  yourself?" 

[At  this  point  the  good-natured  Briton,  who  had  been 
more  amused  than  vexed  by  this  impertinent  catechism, 
changed  his  tactics,  and  replied  to  his  interrogator's  last 
question  in  the  true  American  stjde,  by  asking  another,  and 
continued  to  follow  him  up  after  the  same  fashion  he  had 
been  attacked  himself,  as  follows:] 

Eng.   "  How  old  should  you  think  me?" 

Yan.  "  Wal,  about  a  marter  of  sixty-five  or  seven." 

Eng.  "  How  old  are  you?" 

Yan.   "  Give  a  guess." 

Eng.   '■'■  Forty-two.     Are  you  an  American  ?  " 

Yan.   "  Yes,  sir!"  straightening  up. 

Eng.   "In  what  part  of  America  were  you  born?" 

Yan.  "  Wal,  I  was  raised  in  Vermont,  but  I  moved  to 
Elmiry,  New  York." 

Eng.   "  Married?" 

Yan.  "  Yes,  sir;   merricd  when  I  was  twenty-five." 

Eng.   "  Any  children  ?  " 

Yan.   "  No,  sir;  never  bed  none." 

Eng.   "  Wife  travelling  with  you  ?  " 

Yan.   "  No,  sir.     I'm  a  widower." 

Eng.  "  Ah  !  Excuse  me  ;  but  what's  your  business  when 
you  are  at  home  ?  " 

Yan.   "I'm  a  milkman  —  I  carry  round  milk." 

Eng.  (smiling).  "  But  what  will  j'our  customers  do  for 
milk  while  you  are  away  ?  " 

Yan.  "  0,  I  sold  out  my  route,  which  was  a  good  one, 
fur  five  hunderd  dollars,  and  took  four  on't  and  bought  one 
of  them  Cook  tickets  to  come  out  here  to  the  Vienny  Exhi- 
bition." 


'  MALAPROP  '    BLUNDERS.  23 

This  milk  revelation  was  too  much  for  me,  who  had  been 
stifling-  my  laughter  by  every  possible  device,  as  the  unmer- 
ciful Englishman  went  on  with  his  quizzing  of  the  enemy, 
and  at  this  point  I  was  compelled  to  seek  relief  in  an  explo- 
sion of  laughter,  in  which  he  joined,  and,  to  our  no  small 
astonishment,  the  milkman  also,  who  remarked  that  it  was 
a  good  joke,  and  he  "  guessed  the  feller  that  bought  the 
route  would  hev  easier  work  deliverin'  milk  to  some  of  his 
customers  than  collectin'  their  bills." 

The  above  dialogue  was  no  fancy  sketch,  and  its  hero 
was  an  actual  sample  of  an  American  excursionist,  and  it  is 
not  the  onl}'"  one  of  this  description  either,  that  the  facilities 
of  travel,  the  cheap  ticket  system,  and  Vienna  Exhibition 
attracted  from  their  native  land  ;  for  I  have  encountered 
several  others  equally  amusing.  One  who  rushed  up  to  the 
carriage  of  a  party  of  us  who  were  leaving  the  hotel,  to  say 
that  he  was  going  to  travel  with  a  currier,  and,  so  far  from 
seeing  the  point  when  asked  by  a  gentleman  if  he  wanted 
to  improve  his  acquaintance  in  the  leather  trade,  seriously 
replied  he  never  had  any  dealings  in  that  line.  Another,  in 
Rome,  on  being  asked  to  join  a  party  to  visit  the  Colosseum, 
replied,  "  Colosseum,  what's  that?" 

"  Wh}'',  the  old  Roman  circus,  you  know." 

"  0,  3'es  1  Is  there  a  performance  this  evening?  What 
time  does  it  begin  ?  " 

An  explanation  that  the  circus  referred  to  was  unlike  the 
modern  one  with  horses,  clowns,  and  acrobats,  had  to  be 
gently  hinted  to  this  ambitious  sight-seer,  to  prevent  misap- 
prehension and  disappointment. 

The  author  may  be  permitted,  perhaps,  to  cite  another 
case,  more  mortifying  because  of  its  prominence.  The 
daughter  of  an  American  official  at  a  soiree,  and  in  presence 
of  several  English  people  of  high  social  and  official  position, 
upon  being  asked  how  she  liked  England,  replied  that  "the 
country  was  well  enough,  but  the  people  were  not  polite." 
Regret  was  expressed  that  the  young  lady  had  been  disap- 
pointed in  this  particular,  when  she  continued : 


24  EEPEESENTATIVES    OF   AMERICA. 

"  Why,  IVe  been  in  England  all  through  May  and  June, 
and  never  been  bunched  once!" 

Some,  even  of  her  American  auditors,  were  taken  aback 
by  this,  to  them,  untranslatable  expression  ;  and  the  good 
breeding  of  the  English  ones  could  scarce  repress  a  smile. 

It  transpired,  however,  that  being  "  bunched  "  signified, 
in  western  or  southern  parlance,  the  reception  of  a  bouquet 
or  "bunch"  of  flowers. 

I  would  not  speak  thus  in  mere  ridicule  of  many  of  these 
my  countrymen,  knowing  that  at  home  they  are  the  bone 
and  sinew  of  the  country  ;  but  it  is  sometimes  annoying  that 
educated  Englishmen,  and  men  of  high  position  and  culture 
even,  who  have  seldom  met  Americans,  take  such  as  above 
described  to  be  the  representatives  of  our  American  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  culture,  and  have  the  impressions  that 
have  been  created  by  the  stories  of  satirical  or  scurrilous 
travellers  crystallized  into  absolute  faith  by  these  examples. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  after  meeting  a  few  such  people  as 
these,  besides  innumerable  Americans  in  every  foreign  cap- 
ital ;  finding  your  countrj'-men  rushing  from  a  train  or  a 
diligence  in  Switzerland  for  the  best  rooms  at  an  inn,  as 
summer  tourists  do  at  home ;  or  the  meeting  of  persons 
whom  you  hardly  thought  could  afford  to  visit  Washington 
or  the  White  Mountains,  meandering  about  the  streets  of 
St.  Petersburg,  or  staring  at  statuary  in  the  Vatican,  that 
you  begin  to  think  that  going  to  Europe  isn't  so  great  an 
undertaking  after  all  ? 

And,  really,  with  such  almost  guaranteed  safety  as  is  now 
given  by  the  excellent  management  of  the  principal  steam- 
ship lines,  it  is  not  such  a  formidable  undertaking  as  many 
think  it,  by  any  means. 

Then,  if  you  don't  practise  it  yourself,  you  may  have  oc- 
casion to  smile  at  the  aflFectation  of  the  3^oung  lady  at  the 
party,  who  says  she  got  the  bracelet  when  she  was  last  in 
Paris,  or  who,  in  reply  to  your  inquiry  about  her  visit 
abroad,  says  that  she  has  never  "  crossed  "  but  twice,  when 


"  MOST    INTERESTING    THING    IN    EUROPE."  25 

you  learn  that  the  last  was  the  only  time  that  she  was  in  the 
gay  capital,  and  that  "  crossing  twice  "  means  once  over 
and  once  back,  a  piece  of  fasliionable  deception  supposed, 
perhaps,  if  successful,  to  add  to  the  reputation  of  the  utterer 
as  an  extensive  traveller,  and  arguing  a  thorough  familiarity 
with  foreign  lands.  Then  there  are  others  who  have  been 
over  the  same  route  as  yourself,  eager  to  compare  notes, 
and  you  will  find  anxious  to  impress  you  that  they  have  seen 
something  that  escaped  your  notice,  and  that  that  one  es- 
pecial object,  in  their  opinion,  is  the  only  one  worth  crossing 
the  ocean  to  see.  You  are  put  through  the  usual  round  of 
questions  by  these  newly-returned  ones,  such  as,  — 

"  Did  you  go  to  Edinbui'gh  Castle  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  See  the  room  where  Rizzio  was  killed  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  went  to  Dresden,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Saw  the  green  vaults  —  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  0,  yes  ;   we  visited  them  several  times." 

"  Did  you  see  that  ostrich-egg  cup  set  in  jewels  ?  " 

"  Remember  it  perfectly." 

"  Rome  is  an  interesting  city  —  isn't  it?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is." 

"  Did  you  go  into  the  catacombs  while  you  were  there  ?" 

"  But  a  short  distance  ;  we  had  not  time." 

"  0  !  you  don't  know  what  you  missed.  It's  the  most 
interesting  thing  in  the  whole  city  ;  there's  nothing  like  it 
anywhere  in  Europe.  Why,  I'm  astonished  you  didn't  see 
all  the  catacombs,"  &c. 

I  used  to  feel  somewhat  mortified  at  my  omissions  when 
I  first  heard  remarks  of  this  kind,  till  I  found  that  the 
utterers  of  them  were  the  most  superficial  of  travellers,  and 
only  laid  these  traps  to  discover  something  with  which  I 
was  not  familiar,  in  order  that  they  might  expatiate  and  en- 
large upon  it  freely  and  with  perfect  safety,  so  that,  while 


26  EXPERTS    IX    TRAVELLING. 

they  maintained  a  discreet  silence  upon  what  we  both 
acknowledged  to  have  seen,  th^y  were  more  eloquent  upon 
that  which  had  escaped  the  listener's  notice.  This  may  be 
the  safest  course,  perhaps,  with  some  travellers. 

If  one  has  had  much  experience  as  a  tourist,  and  has  any 
habits  of  observation,  he  soon  begins  to  study  character,  not 
only  in  the  peoples  of  foi'cign  countries,  but  in  those  of  his 
own  countrj'raen  with  whom  lie  is  thrown  in  contact  in  the 
great  travelled  routes  abroad,  now  so  thoroughly  traversed 
by  Americans.  The  old  and  experienced  traveller  is  de- 
tected at  a  glance  by  the  matter-of-iact  way  in  which  he 
takes  all  inconveniences,  and  the  readiness  with  which  he 
adapts  himself  to  any  unavoidable  exigences  which  may 
arise.  lie  is  slow  to  find  fault,  but  quick  to  check  or  avoid 
imposition  ;  ready  to  adapt  himself  to  the  customs  of  the 
country  as  far  as  possible,  and  does  not  expect  that  every- 
thing will  be  arranged  by  hotel-keepers,  railroads,  and  shop- 
keepers abroad  according  to  the  custom   of  his  native  land. 

Much  of  the  misunderstanding,  difficulty,  and  discomfort 
of  foreign  travel  with  many  tourists  abroad  arises  from  the 
fact  that  they  expect,  although  manners,  customs,  and  meth- 
ods of  transacting  business  are  different  from  theirs,  that 
they  have  only  to  pay  money  to  cause  an  entire  change  of 
those  methods  to  their  own,  or  that  the  difference  which  they 
observe  is  an  evidence  of  a  lower  scale  of  intelligence  of  the 
people. 

There  are  also  certain  people  who  fancy  that  tlie  payment  of 
a  sum  of  money  not  only  entitles  them  to  the  most  comfortable 
seat  in  a  railway  carriage,  the  best  place  at  the  hotel  table, 
the  first  choice  of  apartments,  the  most  convenient  state- 
room on  board  ship,  and  the  first  and  exclusive  attention  of 
conductors,  landlords,  captains,  and  officials,  but  that  it 
makes  them  of  better  clay  than  ordinary  mortals,  who 
should  stand  aside  in  deferential  awe  until  their  superior 
wants  have  been  satisfied. 

This   class  are  also  the  most   persistent  of  fault-finders. 


INEXPERIENCED   TOURISTS.  27 

They  go  abroad  with  the  expectation  of  being-  more  comfort- 
able than  at  home  ;  are  unwilling  to  encounter  even  tlio 
necessary  discomforts  of  travel,  and  not  only  fret,  fume,  and 
worry  themselves  into  a  state  of  unnecessary  discomfort, 
but  are  annoying  to  all  with  whom  they  come  in  contact. 

There  is  another  class  of  Americans  who  seem  to  have  an 
idea  that,  having  a  certain  amount  of  money  to  spend,  they 
should  disburse  it  in  the  most  expeditious  and  lavish  man- 
ner possible.  For  the  reason,  may  be,  that  having  hoarded 
or  striven  for  years  for  this  dream  of  their  life,  —  a  visit  to 
Europe,  —  they  are  determined  to  make  up  for  a  long  period 
of  abstemiousness,  in  the  matter  of  expenditure,  by  a  short 
and  merry  one  of  unrestrained  extravagance.  This  last 
class  take  life  pretty  much  as  it  comes,  scatter  their  money 
right  and  left,  are  an  easy  prej^  to  swindling  couriers,  grasp- 
ing landlords,  cheating  shopkeepers,  and  the  horde  of  dif- 
ferent grades  of  chevaliers  d'industrie  who  have  come  to  look, 
and  with  good  reason,  upon  the  American  tourist  as  their 
legitimate  pre}',  and  who  feed  fat  upon  the  credulity  and 
simplicity  of  the  swarms  of  fresh  innocents  that  each  suc- 
ceeding year  fall  into  their  clutches. 

These  two  classes  of  travellers,  the  one  arrogant  and 
self-sufficient,  demanding  more  than  he  is  entitled  to,  the 
other  lavish  and  careless,  and  actuall}'  not  receiving  what 
he  more  than  pays  for,  have  made  the  great  travelled  routes 
of  Europe  somewhat  less  pleasant  to  the  average  man  of 
the  world,  travelling  for  recreation  or  instruction,  who  de- 
sires a  fair  value  received  for  his  expenditure,  and  who  will 
in  no  case  suffer  the  attempted  imposition  of  any  class  of 
officials  to  pass  unheeded  or  unrebuked,  lest  by  so  doing 
they  may  be  repeated  upon  those  who  come  after  him. 

American  tourists,  as  a  class,  are  generous  in  expendi- 
tures ;  and  this  is  thoroughly  understood  by  the  shopkeep- 
ers of  Regent  Street,  the  cringing  cheats  on  the  Boulevards, 
and  the  brazen  liars  of  Vienna  and  Venice,  so  that  it  has 
come  to  be  a  proverb  with  them,  "  As  rich  as  an  American." 


28  HOTEL   IMPOSITIONS. 

Indeed,  a  friend  has  told  mo  that  in  a  little  French  read- 
ing-book, or  primer,  which  he  examined,  one  of  the  sentences 
or  exercises  read,  "  The  Americans  are  very  rich."  The 
newly  fledged  tourist,  on  his  first  visit  to  Europe,  endeavors 
sometimes  to  assume  the  hlase  air  of  one  who  is  "  used  to 
all  that  sort  of  thing,  j'ou  know  ;  "  paj^s  always  what  is 
chai'ged,  —  sure  sign  of  an  American,  —  and  believes,  until 
taught  by  bitter  experience,  that  Frenchmen  tell  the  truth. 

Many  of  our  well  educated  Americans,  people  of  culture 
and  thorough  understanding  of  the  world  this  side  of  the 
water,  can  hardly  bring  themselves  to  the  "  beating  down  " 
process  so  generally  expected  in  Paris  and  Italy,  or  to  be- 
lieve even  that  great  hotels,  like  the  Bellevue  of  Brussels, 
the  L'Athen'je  of  Paris,  and  the  Hotel  Metropole  of  Vienna, 
would  imperil  their  foreign  business  by  descending  to  abso- 
lirte  and  positive  imposition,  as  both  have  done  to  English 
and  American  travellers.  The  impositions  of  the  latter 
were  brought  before  the  police  of  Vienna,  and  also  exten- 
sively published  through  the  English  press  ;  and  those  of  the 
Bellevue  at  Brussels  are  pretty  generally  known  among  tour- 
ists of  both  nations. 

The  fact  is,  writers,  correspondents,  and  book-makers  do 
not  like  to  be  considered  fault-finders.  Americans  especially 
had  rather  pay  a  five  or  ten  dollar  swindle  than  "make  a 
fuss,"  or  bother  tliemselves  about  it. 

Not  so  the  Englishman.  Be  he  ever  so  wealthy,  he  is 
never  rich  enough  to  pay  an  overcharge  even  of  a  shilling  ; 
and  as  it  has  been  said  that,  whenever  an  English  subject  in 
any  port  in  the  world  is  imprisoned  or  maltreated,  an  Eng- 
lish man-of-war  steams  into  the  harbor  of  tliat  port,  and 
anchors  with  her  guns  bearing  on  the  town,  within  twenty- 
four  hours  after  the  occurrence,  so  whenever  an  Englishman 
is  overcharged  five  francs  on  his  room  or  his  dinner,  at  a  for- 
eign hotel  on  any  of  the  grand  tour  routes,  and  writes  (en- 
closing his  card  of  reference)  to  the  Times,  that  journal 
prints    his   communication,   champions   his   cause,    and    the 


SERVANTS    AND    SOVEREIGNS.  29 

offending  landlord  has  a  very  wholesome  lesson  given  him  in 
a  stigma  that  he  finds  attached  to  his  house,  which  it  re- 
quires no  common  effort  to  remove. 

Again,  Americans  allow  themselves  to  be  imposed  upon 
in  a  manner  that  English  people  would  not  submit  to  for  an 
instant,  probably  from  the  fact  that  class  distinction  is  so 
much  greater  in  England  tlian  here.  In  America,  those 
occupying  positions  of  porters,  railroad  conductors,  ticket- 
sellers,  baggage-masters,  salesmen,  or  hotel  waiters  even, 
conduct  themselves  as  thougli  they  were,  as  a  general  thing, 
too  good  for  the  position,  and  those  whom  they  were  serv- 
ing should  be  gratified  at  the  condescension  shown  them, 
even  though  they  pay  liberally  for  it. 

To  be  sure,  it  is  a  laudable  ambition  ;  and  one  great  ele- 
ment of  the  strength  of  our  nation  is  that  these  people  may, 
by  force  of  brains,  elevate  themselves  to  the  position  of 
merchants,  railroad  presidents,  treasurers,  and  hotel  pro- 
prietors ;  but  we  know  that  "  every  man  a  sovereign  " 
feeling  crops  out  quite  frequently  here,  for  instance  in  the 
lordly  hotel-keeper  who  permits  you  to  remain  instead  of 
welcoming  you  into  his  house,  the  railroad  president  who 
considers  the  public  of  no  account,  and  the  merchant  who 
serves  you  indifferently  or  patronizingly. 

How  many  Americans  are  there  that  will  insist  that  a 
horse-car  conductor  shall  do  his  duty  ;  that  a  railroad  presi- 
dent shall  attend  to  the  business  of  the  road  they  own 
stock  in  ;  that  city  ofiScials  shall  understand  they  are  the 
servants  of  the  public  ;  that  hackmen  and  express  drivers, 
or  baggage  porters  at  railroad  stations,  shall  do  the  duty 
they  are  paid  for  doing  ;  that  if  they  have  paid  for  a  place, 
or  a  seat,  or  a  performance,  or  a  railroad  trip,  they  shall 
have  it  ?  It  is  "  too  much  trouble,"  and  cheaper  to  submit 
to  an  imposition,  than  to  contend  about  it. 

The  difficulty  this  side  of  the  water  is,  that  many  who  oc- 
cupy the  above  positions  are  not  willing  to  accept  and  per- 
form the  duties  of  the  situation.     In  England,  the  prompt 


30  ACCEPTING    THE    SITUATION. 

measures  which  are  taken  with  regard  to  the  shortcomings 
of  ticket  clerks,  raih-oad  porters,  cab-drivers,  and  railway 
guards,  are  such  that  one  seldom  receives  anything  but 
polite  treatment  and  a  prompt  performance  of  duties  belong- 
ing to  the  position. 

There  is  a  marked  difference  from  our  own  country  in  the 
deference  the  traveller  receives  in  every  direction  in  travelling 
in  England,  from  the  landlord  and  landlady,  who  cordially 
welcome  him  in  with  smiles  upon  their  broad  and  ruddy 
faces  as  though  they  felt  honored  by  his  being  their  guest, 
the  obsequious  alacrity  of  the  brisk  waiter,  the  courtesy  of  the 
wliite-aproned  chambermaid,  and  the  untiring  devotion  of  the 
polite  shopman.  Then  the  politeness  of  the  railroad  ticket- 
sellers,  the  touch-hats  of  the  porters,  and  the  quiet  perform- 
ance of  duty  of  the  railway  guard,  impress  the  new  traveller. 

I  am  sorry  to  say,  however,  that  the  conduct  of  many 
American  travellers  towards  these  very  officials  is  such  as  to 
give  them  a  very  unfavorable  opinion  of  us  as  a  class  ;  in- 
deed, it  has  been  such  with  some  as  to  cause  them  to  say  that 
there  are  no  gentlemen  in  America.  This  conclusion  may 
have  been  reached,  perhaps,  from  the  restiveness  of  Amer- 
icans under  the  antique,  slow-coach,  old-fogy  style  of  doing 
business  by  the  mercantile  houses  in  London, especially  those 
on  whom  their  letters  of  credit  were  drawn. 

The  American  going  abroad  for  the  first  time  with  a  letter 
of  credit  in  his  pocket  is  told  that,  on  presenting  it  to  any 
of  the  "  bankers  "  of  the  list  printed  upon  the  back,  he  can 
draw  an}'  sum  within  the  full  amount  named  in  the  letter. 
This  means,  that  any  of  these  parties  are  ready  to  buy  his 
drafts,  by  which  they  make  a  small  percentage  and  charge 
interest  from  the  moment  the  amount  is  paid  ;  therefore, 
instead  of  "  letting  j^ou  have  money,"  as  is  said,  they 
simply  buy  exchange  of  you  at  a  small  profit,  according  to 
the  size  of  yoxxv  draft,  but  still  at  a  profit.  Your  letter  is  a 
written  indorsement  of  you,  showing  that  you  have  credit 
and  actual  funds  to  protect  your  drafts,  and  that  you  are 


LETTERS    OF    CREDIT.  31 

therefore  a  perfectly  safe  person  to  buy  a  draft  of,  which 
draft  is  to  be  indorsed  on  the  said  letter.  You  are  a  far 
safer  person  to  buy  of  than  the  stranger  who  comes  in  with 
no  letter  of  introduction  to  sell  a  bill  of  exchange,  which 
must  be  bought  to  a  certain  extent  because  of  the  presum- 
able value  of  the  names  upon  it,  and  because  it  will  prob- 
ably be  promptly  honored. 

Letters-of-credit  drafts,  that  is  the  amounts  drawn  by 
holders  of  letters  of  credit,  bankers  know  to  be  against 
actual  sterling,  and  that  they  will  be  promptly  honored,  no 
days'  sight,  protesting,  or  any  hitch ;  so  that,  though  in 
small  amounts,  they  are  the  very  best  kind  of  bills  of  ex- 
change. The  profound  ignorance  of  some  of  the  tourist 
holders  of  these  letters,  is  amazing,  and  their  wonderment 
at  "  brokers  "  in  Germany,  France,  or  Italy  "  letting  them 
have  money  "  on  them  is  amusing.  Ladies,  for  instance, 
travelling  with  couriers,  walk  in  and  ask  an  Italian  banker, 
perhaps  : 

"  Could  you  let  me  have  three  hundred  francs  on  this  ?  " 
(showing  her  letter  of  credit. ) 

The  banker  looks  at  the  letter,  finds  it  drawn  by  a  well- 
known  strong  banking-house  of  New  York,  Boston,  or  Lon- 
don, and  replies  in  the  blandest  of  tones  : 

"  Certainly,  Madam." 

He  takes  the  letter  of  credit,  and  shortly  returns  with  two 
printed  slips  filled  out  for  Madam's  signature.  These  two 
slips  are  bills  of  exchange,  or  checks  at  sight  on  the  deposit 
which  her  letter  of  credit  represents.  The  check  or  bill  is 
made  in  duplicate  in  case  one  should  be  lost  in  course  of 
mail,  and  they  severally  read,  "  Pay  this  (original),  second 
unpaid  ;  "  and  "  Pay  this  (second)  bill  of  exchange,  origi- 
nal unpaid." 

The  lady  signing  this  has  signed  a  check  for  some 
of  her  own  money,  and  the  banker  or  broker,  after  indorsing 
the  amount  on  the  letter  of  credit,  in  order  that  others  may 
see  how  much  she  has  drawn  and  how  much  is  left  that  she 


32  CASHING    DRAFTS. 

has  authority  to  draw  for,  proceeds  to  cash  it,  or,  as  she 
calls  it,  lets  her  "  have  three  hundred  francs." 

This  he  does  as  follows  :  He  pays  for  tliis  cash  draft  the 
lowest  figure  the  exchange  on  London  or  Paris  is  worth. 
The  throe  hundred  francs  on  Pai'is  may  be  worth  in  Italy 
three  hundred  and  thirty  to  three  hundred  and  forty-five 
francs  iu  the  market.  He  pays,  then,  three  hundred  and 
thirty  Italian  francs,  or  lire,  and  charges  Madam,  besides, 
from  one-half  to  one  and  one-half  per  cent,  commission  for 
cashing  the  draft,  and  "  lets  her  have  "  the  balance  ! 

The  broker  or  banker,  who  is  generally  doing  a  business 
with  merchants  and  others  having  a  continual  demand  for 
funds  to  place  in  Paris  or  London,  turns  these  sight  drafts 
right  over  to  the  said  merchants,  who  buy  them  of  him,  as  a 
general  thing,  at  a  good  profit  on  what  he  paid  when  he  let 
Madam  have  some  money.  That  is,  if  he  gave  her  three 
hundred  and  twenty-five  francs  (Italian)  for  her  sight  draft 
(authorized  by  the  letter  of  credit),  it  may  be  pretty  certain 
gets  three  hundred  and  thirty-five  for  it,  —  a  profit  of  ten 
francs.  A  small  profit,  for  the  draft  is  small.  But  in 
the  travelling  season,  in  many  localities,  the  aggregate 
of  tourists'  drafts  amounts  to  quite  a  respectable  sum  of 
money. 

The  drawing  of  money  upon  a  letter  of  credit  is  merely  a 
mercantile  transaction  for  which  no  favors  can  be  expected 
on  either  side. 

On  the  continent,  where  bankers  do  not  despise  small 
gains,  even  this  business  is  fostered  carefully.  All  bankers 
on  the  continent  receive  tourists  politely,  have  withdrawing 
room  and  English  and  American  papers,  English-speaking 
clerks,  and  a  register  of  tourists  in  town,  for  the  conven- 
ience of  those  whose  drafts  they  cash.  They  also  receive 
the  letters  and  papers  of  the  tourist,  of  course  charging 
sufficient  postage  to  save  themselves  from  any  loss.  Many, 
in  Italy,  for  instance,  receive  from  art  dealers  and  others 
handsome  commissions  on  purchases  by  buyers  whom  they 


CONTINENTAL    BANKERS'    COURTESIES,  33 

recommend,  or  will  purchase  and  ship  home  pictures,  statu- 
ary, wines,  jewelry,  or  articles  of  viriu  or  curiosities  for  the 
tourist,  by  which  means  they  carry  a  very  respectable  sum 
to  the  profit  side  of  their  ledgers. 

In  fact,  as  a  general  thing,  the  bankers  on  the  continent, 
whose  names  the  tourist  will  find  printed  on  the  back  of  his 
letter  of  credit,  and  who  will  promptly  cash  his  drafts  and 
deal  with  him  honorably,  are  courteous  and  civil,  especially 
to  Americans,  having  learned  that  the  American,  if  humored, 
and  if  some  of  his  peculiarities  are  borne  with,  will  spend 
money  liberally,  and  they  can  even  find  it  profitable  to  trans- 
act business  with  him  in  hU  way,  especially  if  he  pays  for  it 
so  to  be  done. 

Hence  many  American  tourists  who  have  had  no  previous 
acquaintance,  even  by  correspondence,  with  foreign  bank- 
ing-houses, and  whose  names  have  never  been  known  on  a 
bill  of  exchange,  find  some  of  them  very  pleasant  places 
of  resort  from  the  courtesy  of  the  officials  upon  any  and  all 
occasions. 

In  France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  other  countries  on  the 
continent,  it  is  customary  to  order  packages  sent  to  your 
bankers,  you  having  shown  by  your  letter  of  credit  that  you 
shall  do  business  with  them,  they  will  take  care  of  any  such 
merchandise. 

Thus  you  buy  a  picture  in  Rome,  perchance,  and  cannot 
take  it  with  you  ;  but  knowing  that  you  shall  want  it  in  Flor- 
ence, and  knowing  no  one  there,  order  it  sent  to  the  care 
of  the  banking-house  on  your  letter  of  credit,  the  bank- 
ers receive  it  for  you,  subject  to  your  disposition.  I 
mention  this,  Avhich  is  by  no  means  information  to  any 
person  wlio  has  travelled  abroad,  but  to  caution  those  who 
do  not  know,  that  the  English  "  bankers,"  or  merchants,  as 
a  class  are  a  very  different  set  of  people,  and  that  tiie  tour- 
ist should  beware  of  taking  any  such  liberty  (ibr  so  they 
consider  it)  with  them. 

They  are  perfectly  right,  according  to  their  style  of  doing 
3 


84  A    PRESSING   NECESSITY. 

business,  which  is  simply  to  buy  and  sell  bills  of  exchange 
and  merchandise  in  bulk.  They  are  not  commission  mer- 
chants, and  do  not  expect  pictures,  ladies'  dresses,  or 
statuary  consigned  to  their  care,  even  if  you  pay  storage 
charges  and  commission.  They  do  not  wish  to  be  bothered 
with  that  class  of  business.  In  this  a  certain  class  of 
British  merchants  and  bankers  are  right,  and  the  fault  lies 
in  our  great  bankers  here  in  America  in  not  providing  that 
their  tourists'  letters  of  credit  shall  be  drawn  on  a  house  to 
whom  American  business  shall  be  desirable,  and  who  shall 
be  ready  to  transact  business  with  Americans,  and  yield  a 
little  something  of  the  stitf  buckram  British  stjde  if  it  can 
be  done  without  detriment,  to  the  better  accommodation  of 
the  American  customer.  It  may  be  that  there  are  such 
houses  now  in  London,  but  it  has  been  the  author's  fortune 
to  have  his  "  letters  "  on  great  banking  and  mercantile 
houses  who  seem,  like  the  Chinese,  to  consider  all  who  are 
not  English,  "  outside  barbarians,"  and  that,  the  English 
system  of  transacting  business  being  perfect,  there  should  be 
no  change  in  it,  even  if  it  were  more  convenient  to  foreign 
customers,  and  assured  themselves  increased  profit.  Hence 
the  difficulties  of  which  we  speak. 

There  exists  in  London,  as  almost  every  American  tourist 
will  bear  witness,  the  necessity  of  an  American  commission 
or  banking-house  of  undoubted  financial  strength,  which,  be- 
sides the  sufficient  capital  that  some  that  have  failed  did 
not  have,  should  also  possess  the  spirit  of  accommodation, 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  American  human  nature 
in  particular,  which  those  that  failed  did  have,  and  the  prac- 
tice of  which  drew  to  them  a  large  amount  of  business, 
some  of  which,  though  even  in  small  amounts  of  lettcr-of- 
credit  drafts,  might,  with  careful  fostering,  have,  in  not 
many  years,  from  the  very  nature  of  them,  and  the  progress 
of  American  business,  grown  to  heavy  bills  to  purchase 
cargoes  of  merchandise  instead  of  funds  to  pay  hotel 
bills. 


ENGLISH   EXCLUSIVENESS.  35 

The  banker  in  England  is  considered  of  the  highest  grade 
iu  the  business  social  circle  ;  only  the  true  blood  of  nobility- 
is  above  him.  Indeed,  some  of  his  class,  we  know,  are  of 
the  nobility,  such  as  Baron  Rothschild,  Lord  Ashburton, 
and  others.  They  look  down  upon  the  merchant,  still  more 
on  the  tradesman,  metaphorically,  and  doubtless  there  is  an 
impression  among  them,  as  among  many  of  the  more  wealthy 
English  people,  that  the  Americans  are  an  inferior  race, 
and  should  be  treated  accordingly.  It  may  be  judged  fn^n 
some  specimens  already  described  that  they  have  some  rea- 
son for  this  latter  opinion. 

Baring  Bros.  &  Co.,  and  MacCalmont  Bros.  &  Co.,  espe- 
cially the  latter,  are  not  the  houses  that  should  be  selected 
by  our  American  bankers  for  tourists'  letters.  They  may 
"  place  "  a  government  or  railroad  loan,  advance  on  a 
cargo,  or  contract  for  a  whole  crop  of  merchandise,  and  do 
business  in  immense  stocks  of  tens  of  thousands  ;  and 
therefore  the  business  of  a  letter  of  credit  is  so  compara- 
tivel}^  insignificant  that  they  only  treat  it  with  the  barest 
civility,  out  of  consideration  to  their  correspondents,  cer- 
tainly with  but  little  to  the  holders  of  the  letters. 

The  latter  English  banking-house,  upon  which  the  author 
held  a  letter,  he  found  to  be  located  in  a  filthy  alley,  so  nar- 
row that  barely  one  cab  could  pass  between  the  two  curb- 
stones. The  building,  after  getting  inside,  was  fairly  fitted 
up,  but  the  space  for  customers  in  the  banking-house  outside 
the  counter  was  not  ten  feet  square,  and  all  these  bankers, 
or  rather  merchants,  would  do  was  to  give  you  a  check  on  a 
banking-house,  in  another  street,  where  you  were  compelled 
to  go  yourself  and  get  it  cashed. 

There  was  no  relaxation  of  British  stiffness,  no  American 
newspaper,  no  proffer  of  courtesy,  no  more  effort  to  put  the 
raw,  inexperienced  tourist  at  ease  on  the  part  of  the  man- 
agers, than  there  would  have  been  towards  a  tramp  buying  a 
pound  of  bacon.  The  author  writes  this  thoughtfully,  and 
after  months  of  cool  reflection  on  the  subject.     And  it  does 


do  SEASONED    TOURISTS. 

seem  amazing,  considering-  the  enormous  amount  of  Ameri- 
can travel  that  now  exists,  some  one  of  our  great  banking- 
houses  does  not  make  an  arrangement  with  a  house  in  Lon- 
don that  will  meet  the  requirements  of  Americans.  Such  a 
house  would  be  sure  of  a  profitable  business  ;  it  is  a  want 
that  every  American  tourist  feels,  and  has  long  been  the 
burden  of  American  tourists'  complaints,  so  that  the  Amer- 
ican banker  who  will  let  it  be  known  in  America  by  adver- 
tisement that  he  can  draw  on  such  a  house,  may  be  sure  of 
a  handsome  amount  of  business. 

The  traveller  on  his  second  trip  abroad  provides  for  many 
exigencies  that,  with  all  his  advice  from  friends  and  study  of 
guide-books,  were  not  considered  on  tlie  first  voyage.  He 
begins  to  feel  like  the  seasoned  traveller,  and  "  knows  the 
ropes,"  i.  e.,  the  customs  on  board  ocean  steamships.  lie 
does  not  on  his  first  visit  aboard  address  himself  to  mem- 
bers of  the  crew  or  some  of  the  cooks,  and  ask  the  way 
to  the  cabin  ;  four  weeks'  previous  living  on  board  a  steam- 
ship make  him  a  little  familiar  with  its  accommodations,  and 
give  him  some  knowledge  of  what  to  expect  and  what  to 
demand. 

The  steward  detects  your  cool,  old,  seasoned  rover  of  a 
dozen  passages  in  a  moment.  His  battei'ed  sole-leatlier 
trunk,  serviceable  wraps,  and  his  business-like  way  of 
"  stowing  his  traps,"  distinguish  him  from  the  new  tourist 
with  his  fresh  clothing,  all  sorts  of  straps,  spy-glasses, 
cushions,  fashionable  caps,  and  perhaps  semi-nautical  cos- 
tume, in  which  he  hopes  to  make  an  impression,  little  think- 
ing oftentimes,  poor  soul  !   what  misery  is  before  him. 

To  be  acquainted  with  the  captain  seems  with  many  V03'- 
agers  to  be  a  great  card,  judging  from  the  way  they  play 
it,  in  conversation,  —  somewhat  as  follows  : 

"  When  I  went  over  long  ago  with  Judkins,  he  used  to  say 
to  me,"  —  or,  "  Macaulay  's  a  clever  iellow,  and  I  made  two 
voyages  with  him,"  —  or,  "  Did  Moody  ever  tell  you  that 
story  of  the  lady  passenger  and  the  custom-house  officer  ?  " 


A    TRUE    SAILOR.  87 

The  captains  on  the  great  steamship  lines  appear  to  be 
thorough  seamen,  and  to  consider  their  first  duty  to  carry 
their  ships  safely  from  port  to  port  ;  but  some  passengers, 
by  their  acts,  seem  to  think  that  a  part  of  their  duty  should 
be  similar  to  that  of  the  skipper  of  an  excursion  steamer 
on  a  trip  down  the  bay  on  a  moonlight  night.  To  walk 
arm-in-arm  with  young  ladies,  stand  about  in  nautical  uni- 
form, and  hold  a  spy-glass  for  them  to  peep  through,  tell 
them  how  he  can  tell  anything  by  the  compass,  or  whether 
he  thinks  it  is  going  to  be  fair  weather  to-morrow. 

Some  of  these  captains  I  have  heard  accused  of  being 
reticent  or  surly,  simply  for  the  reason  that  they  couldn't 
spend  time  from  duty  to  answer  an  avalanche  of  silly  ques- 
tions. This  was  illustrated  to  me  once  quite  forcibly  during 
a  voyage  in  the  steamer  Parthia,  of  the  Cunard  line,  com- 
manded by  Captain  Watson,  said  to  be  a  very  reticent  man, 
and  slow  to  make  acquaintances. 

For  the  first  few  days  out  all  of  us  were  good  sailors,  for 
it  was  delightful  weather,  and  the  sea  was  smooth.  The 
captain  minded  his  own  affairs,  and  it  was  evident  that  tlie 
quiet  man  knew  his  business,  and  that  his  officers  and  crew 
knew  that  it  would  have  to  be  done  in  a  thoroughly  seaman- 
like manner,  with  no  "  sogering."  His  ruddy  cheek  and 
sparkling  brown  ej'e  told  of  health  and  humor,  but  "  on 
duty  "  witli  him  was  a  serious  matter.  The  ladies,  however, 
failed  to  make  an  idol  of  him,  or  the  men  to  vote  him  a 
clever  fellow,  for  the  reason  that  they  didn't  understand  the 
difference  between  a  sailor  and  a  society  man. 

Fanc}^  a  keen,  bright-witted,  practical  seaman,  fully  real- 
izing the  importance  of  his  position  and  responsibility  as 
commander  of  an  ocean  steamship,  being  badgered  by  the 
gentler  sex  in  this  manner  when  he  made  his  appearance  on 
deck  in  fine  weather  : 

"  0,  Captain  !  what  was  that  horrid  jar  in  the  machinery 
about  twelve  o'clock  last  night  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say.  Madam  ;  perhaps  the  engineer  can  tell  you." 


38  CATECHIZING    THE    CAPTAIN. 

"  Do  you  think,  Captain,  it  will  be  as  fine  weather  as  this 
all  the  way  over  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Miss,  if  the  weather  does  not  change." 

"  Captain,  tell  rne  where  is  the  most  dangerous  place  one 
can  be  in  on  the  whole  passage  ?  " 

"  Overboard  at  night,  I  should  think.  Madam." 

"  0,  Captain  !  don't  you  sometimes  get  awfully  frightened 
in  a  storm  ?  " 

"  If  it  is  much  of  a  storm.  Miss,  we  don't  have  time  to  be 
frightened  till  it's  over." 

Many  observers  will  bear  witness  that  similar  questions 
were  asked  on  voyages  they  have  made,  and  are  a  fair  sample 
of  the  feminine  style  of  interrogatories.  Hardly  less  ludi- 
crous and  absurd  was  that  of  some  of  the  male  sex,  one  of 
whom  comes  along,  and  squinting  knowingly  aloft,  says  : 

"  Ain't  you  carryiu'  sail  pretty  strong  this  mornin', 
Cap'en  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  we  are." 

"  How  much  sail  will  she  stan'  in  a  breeze  like  this  ?  " 

"  0,  all  that  we  make." 

"  Wind  is  changin',  I  see,"  says  another,  looking  aft. 

"  Indeed  !  "  says  the  Captain,  for  it  was  news  to  him. 

Another  comes  along,  perhaps,  with  an  idea  of  doing  the 
agreeable. 

"  Good  morning.  Captain." 

"  Good  morning." 

"  Won't  you  go  down  and  take  a  little  suthin  afore  break- 
fast—  cocktail  or  a  little  bitters  ?  " 

(Sententiously.)   "  No,  tliank  you." 

"  0,  Captain,"  says  another,  "  I  wish  you'd  see  that  I  hev 
a  napkin  put  to  my  plate  at  dinner  ;  thet  waiter  forgets  it." 

"  If  you  will  speak  to  the  chief  steward,  he  will  accom- 
modate you." 

Think  of  people,  who  ask  a  steamship  captain  questions 
like  these  (and  these  are  no  inventions),  complaining  that 
he  is  "  reticent,"  or  "  plaguy  short  in  his  answers." 


STEAMSHIP    EXPERIENCES.  39 

'  A  great  many  ocean-steamship  passengers  cherish  a  kindly, 
and  we  might  say  reverential  respect  fur  some  of  these 
steamship  commanders,  somewhat  for  the  same  reason  that 
a  man  does  for  a  good  family  doctor  that  has  successfully 
battled  with  disease  for  him,  or  a  good  family  lawyer  that 
has  faithfully  guarded  his  property.  It  is  a  recognition  of 
their  professional  skill  as  sailors,  and  of  the  fact  of  their 
own  utter  helplessness  in  a  position  where  the  other  was  at 
home  and  master  of  the  situation  ;  and  if  ever  there  is  a  posi- 
tion where  the  man  should  be  the  master  of  the  situation,  it 
is  as  commander  of  an  ocean  steamer. 

The  life  on  an  ocean  steamer  has  become  familiar  from 
frequent  description,  to  those  even  who  have  not  expe- 
rienced it ;  but  it  is  astonishing  how  much  more  practically 
you  take  it  after  a  trip  or  two  across  the  Atlantic,  and,  if 
anything  of  a  student  of  character,  how  much,  even  in  the 
temporary  misery  of  sea-sickness,  there  is  that  one  sees  which 
is  ludicrous  and  amusing.  The  everlasting  setting  of  tables 
and  eating  and  drinking  is  nauseating  until  you  get  j^our 
appetite  on  ;  then  it  is  interesting.  A  pale-faced  passenger, 
on  the  sixth  day  out,  once  came  to  me  \tith  a  triumphant 
countenance,  saying,  "  I  am  all  right  now  for  the  rest  of 
the  voyage,  for  I  can  stand  right  over  the  kitchen  in  the  full 
steam  and  scent  of  Welsh  rarebits  and  fried  bacon."  Those 
who  know  the  sensations  caused  by  the  scent  of  cooking  on 
a  thoroughly  sea-sick  man  will  appreciate  the  strength  of 
stomach  implied  by  this  boast. 

But  the  sea-voyage  is  not  always  the  disagreeable  expe- 
rience that  is  pictured.  Between  the  months  of  May  and 
September  a  reasonably  pleasant  trip  may  be  expected  across 
the  Atlantic,  and  we  must  also  recollect  that  everybody  is 
not  sea-sick,  and  that  there  are  comparatively  few  but  re- 
cover after  two  or  three  days  of  illness.  There  are  the 
glorious  days  when  the  ocean  air  seems  like  a  cordial 
draught,  the  blue  sky  above  an  azure  never  before  so  heav- 
enly, and  when  the  translucent  green  waves,  fringed  with 


40  PLEASANT    DAYS    AT    SEA. 

white  crests,  as  they  bend  in  broad,  graceful  scrolls  away 
from  the  sliip's  prow,  seem  to  be  molten  and  polished  metal 
rather  than  the  colorless  fluid. 

The  great  steamer,  with  all  sails  set  and  the  wind  directly 
aft,  bends  to  her  work  like  a  yacht ;  steadied  by  the  sails, 
the  ship  cuts  through  the  water  without  a  jar,  nor  sways 
from  the  side  towards  which  she  leans.  We  feel  scarce 
any  breeze,  but  the  big-bosomed  sails  tell  how  it  chases  us, 
and  the  humming  cordage  overhead  sounds  like  a  great 
^olian  harp. 

Not  only  the  wind  is  sending  us  onward,  but  the  chained 
giant  below  M'orks  untiringly  at  piston-rod  and  wheel,  his 
ravenous  and  fiery  appetite  fed  constantly  by  attendant 
slaves,  and  the  monotonous,  regular  throbs  of  the  machinery 
he  keeps  in  motion  becoming  so  much  a  part  of  our  existr 
ence,  that,  let  it  but  stop  for  an  instant,  and  curiosit}',  not  to 
say  anxiety  and  alarm,  is  immediately  expressed. 

But  these  pleasant  days,  when  the  sea  is  smooth,  the  ekj 
clear,  and  the  system  steady,  —  there  is  not  enough  said 
about  them.  Each  one  must,  of  course,  give  his  ex23erience 
of  the  discomforts  of  the  voyage,  as  though  there  were  no 
enjoyments  in  it,  and  there  were  none  who  enjoyed  it.  Can 
there  be  any  better  place  for  quiet  thought,  for  grand  medi- 
tation, or  luxurious,  lazy  dreaming,  than  on  the  great 
boundless  ocean  at  midnight,  beneath  a  cloudless  sky,  and 
the  moon  and  whole  train  of  heavenly  constellations  looking 
indeed  like  golden  lamps  hung  down  from  the  blue  dome 
above  ? 

There  is  just  movement  enough  of  old  Ocean's  breast  to 
seem  like  the  regular  inspirations  of  its  life ;  the  innumerable 
train  of  sparks  from  the  steamer's  chimney  are  like  a  flaming 
troop  of  elves  flying  off  on  a  midnight  revel,  as  they  whirl 
and  waltz  and  float  far  astern,  till  they  seem  to  alight  at  some 
trysting-place  behind  a  silver-edged  wave  in  the  distance. 
The  great  concave  above  rims  us  in  upon  a  vast  tremulous 
expanse  of  steel  and  silver,  with  a  broad  shimmering  path- 


POETRY    OP    THE    0CEA:N".  41 

way  stretching  across  it,  made  by  the  moonHght ;  the  sound 
of  the  waves,  or  the  plash  of  water  that  strikes  the  ear  as 
you  lean  over  the  bulwarks,  is  like  a  liquid  whisper,  and 
caresses  the  side  of  the  ship  like  a  lover  stroking  the  curls 
from  the  brow  of  his  mistress  ;  a  distant  sail,  with  the  moon- 
beam striking  on  it,  creeps  like  a  phantom  in  its  white  robe 
hastily  across  the  horizon. 

Save  this  ghost-like  vision,  the  broad  expanse  heaves, 
"  boundless  and  sublime,"  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  sending 
up  here  and  there  frosted  frontlets  of  foam  that  shine  for  a 
moment  like  fretted  silver,  and  then  sink  from  sight.  Then 
it  is  that  the  landsman  begins  to  feel  the  inspiration  of  the 
ocean,  and  can  realize  how  men  may  have  written  grand 
poetry  about  it,  and  applied  those  poetic  terms  that  in  his 
days  of  wretchedness  in  a  close  cabin  seem  misnomers  and 
a  mockery. 

Perhaps  he  may  realize  also,  during  the  voyage,  what 
influence  the  salt  songs  of  opera  and  concert-rooms  might 
have  been  composed  under,  if  the  authors  indeed  ever  had 
any  such  experience  as  the  inspiration  of  a  sea-voyage,  as 
he  steams  up  the  Mersey  of  a  glorious  May  morning. 
Watching  rocky  shores  and  green  slopes,  he  meets  out- 
coming  ships  spreading  their  great  white  wings  for  their 
ocean  flight,  hears  the  sailors'  chorus  softened  into  music 
by  distance,  or  notes  the  great  waves  afar  oflf  rush  and 
leap  up  against  the  rocks  on  which  the  warning  light-house 
is  perched  as  if  in  vain  endeavor  to  overtop  it ;  or  sees 
that  oft-quoted  and  really  splendid  sight,  a  full-rigged  ship 
under  full  sail  riding  over  the  waves  with  graceful  swing, 
and  the  glitter  of  her  copper  sheathing  shining  amid  the 
dark  waves,  and  flashing  foam  like  the  gold  bracelets  upon 
the  ankles  of  a  Hindoo  woman  in  a  white  robe. 

The  breeze  is  fresh  ;  a  fountain  of  spray  springs  from  the 
prow  of  the  great  ship  as  she  rushes  through  the  brine,  and 
falls  in  the  morning  sunlight  like  a  cataract  of  diamonds  on 
either  side. 


42  LIVERPOOL. 

Up  g-oes  the  flag  of  Old  England  to  the  masthead,  and 
up,  too,  go  three  or  four  colored  pendants,  the  ship's  sig- 
nals, fluttering  in  the  air,  and  hours  before  we  reach  our 
port  of  destination  not  only  will  the  news  of  our  coming 
have  been  told,  but  it  will  have,  with  magic  speed,  con- 
quered in  a  few  seconds  the  space  that  required  of  us  weary 
days  to  overcome,  and  have  told  loved  ones  at  home  that  we 
were  fairly  over  the  ocean  and  sailing  into  port  as  surely  as 
though  we  were  actually  beneath  their  own  anxious  gaze. 

Here  we  are  on  the  pier,  at  the  big  shed  under  which  the 
custom-house  officers  are  waiting,  and  who  make,  as  usual, 
short  work  with  the  trunks  of  American  tourists.  Here  let 
me  advise  the  new  tourist  not  to  leave  his  trunks  to  be  sent 
up  by  the  regular  porters  to  the  hotel,  —  "  it'll  be  all  right, 
sir,  an' save  j^erself  the  trouble,"  —  as  it  gives  opportunity 
for  a  swindling  charge,  notwithstanding  there  is  a  regular 
pi'ice.  If  you  have  but  little  luggage,  after  it  is  examined 
have  it  carried  up  by  a  porter  from  the  landing-stage  to  the 
street,  where  he  will  place  it  on  a  four-wheeled  cab  for  six- 
pence, or  at  most  a  shilling,  and  you  can  then  drive  at 
once,  "  bag  and  baggage,"  to  your  hotel. 

Hotels  in  Liverpool  I  have  before  alluded  to,  and  will 
touch  upon  them  again,  as  here  is  where  the  newly-arrived 
American  gets  his  first  experience  of  English  hotel-keeping, 
notwithstanding  he  will  probably  stop  at  one  which  owes  no 
small  part  of  its  patronage  to  American  travellers  beginning 
or  returning  from  their  European  travels. 

Since  I  was  first  abroad,  the  old  Adelphi  Hotel  in  Liver- 
pool has  been  handsomely  remodelled,  its  little  box  of  a 
coffee-room  enlarged  to  reasonable  dimensions,  and  many 
other  improvements  made  in*  deference  to  the  numerous 
Americans  who  frequent  it. 

The  Adelphi,  Washington,  and  other  houses,  will  be 
observed  by  the  traveller ;  but  the  great  Northwestern 
Hotel  is  the  house  at  present  in  Liverpool,  and  one  in  which 
an  American  may  be  as  comfortable  as  it  is  possible  for  him 


HOTELS.  43 

to  be,  under  certain  customs  which  the  English  people  dog- 
gedly adhere  to  because  they  are  English,  no  matter  if  the 
whole  civilized  world  does  not  practise  them,  and,  in  the 
case  of  an  hotel,  no  matter  if  the  majority  of  their  patrons 
are  foreigners,  to  whom  the  custom  may  be  positively 
annoying. 

The  Northwestern  Hotel  is  at  the  terminus  of  the  North- 
western Railway,  which  takes  you  to  London,  and  is  so 
near  that  you  walk  directly  into  the  station  from  its  hall  or 
oflBce  to  take  the  train,  without  leaving  the  shelter  of  the 
roof.  It  is  owned,  I  think,  by  the  railroad  company.  It 
fronts  St.  George's  Hall,  and  the  front  outlook  is  light  and 
pleasant.  The  beds  are  excellent,  the  rooms  good  and  well 
kept,  prices  high,  —  about  four  dollars  and  a  half,  gold,  per 
day,  —  drawing-rooms,  halls,  and  public  rooms  quite  con- 
venient, food  good,  when  you  get  it,  and  attendance  in  the 
dining-room  execrable,  and  annoying  to  an  American  to 
the  last  degree. 

In  the  first  place,  the  proprietors  seemed,  when  I  was  at 
the  hotel,  to  have  adopted  the  plan  of  a  great  many  English 
hotels  to  get  cheap  waiters,  namely,  that  of  taking  a  large 
number  of  Frenchmen,  Italians,  and  Germans,  who  had  left 
their  native  country  either  to  escape  the  usual  military  ser- 
vice, or  else  to  learn  the  English  language  sufficiently  to 
enable  them  to  be  polylingual  waiters  at  continental  hotels. 
The  stupidity  of  these  men,  from  their  imperfect  under- 
standing of  the  English  language,  customs,  cooking,  &c., 
added  to  the  English  system  of  serving  guests,  which  iu 
itself  was  one  of  the  most  prodigious  bores  that  can  pos- 
sibly be  imagined,  was  very  aggravating. 

I  have  in  a  former  series  of  sketches  ("  Over  the  Ocean  ") 
told  the  reader  that  every  meal  at  an  English  hotel  must  be 
ordered  in  advance,  and  that  nothing  is  ever  "ready." 
Here  at  the  Northwestern  Hotel  was  a  most  ludicrous 
example  of  it.  Placards  posted  in  the  reading-room  in- 
formed   "guests     desiring    dinner"    that    twenty    minutes 


44-  TORMENTS    OF    TAKTALUS. 

notice,  at  least,  was  desired.  It  was  an  absolute  impossi- 
bility here  to  get  dinner  without  paying  twenty  minutes  of 
time,  besides  the  money  value  of  it.  I  personally  tried  it, 
by  coming  at  the  hour  the  hot  joints  were  announced  to  be 
"ready,"  and  which  stood  smoking  on  the  carver's  table, 
within  ten  feet  of  where  I  sat. 

Fortunately,  I  got  an  English  waiter  to  attend  me. 

"  Give  me,"  I  said,  "  a  slice  of  that  roast-beef,"  pointing 
to  it.  "I  wish  for  no  vegetables,  but  only  a  slice  of  the 
beef,  and  a  bit  of  bread." 

"Yes,  sir."  And  the  waiter  left  me,  returned  in  two  or 
three  minutes  with  a  little  ticket  for  me  to  fill  out,  number 
of  my  room,  name,  and  what  I  would  order.  I  did  so,  and 
he  retired  again. 

There  I  sat,  the  aroma  of  the  beef  saluting  my  nostrils, 
as  its  juice  oozed  out,  and  it  slowly  baked  in  its  great 
chafing-dish  over  gas-heaters  ;  but  never  a  slice  got  I. 

Five  minutes  jDassed  ;  nearly  as  many  more  ;  and  then 
knives  and  forks  were  placed,  napkins  ditto. 

"  Can't  I  have  my  beef  now?  " 

"  Yes-ir,  d'l-eckly  ;   'ot  plates  here  d'reckly,  sir." 

Then  water  was  turned  out  in  the  goblets,  the  waiter  left, 
and  in  a  short  time  reappeared  with  plates,  proceeded  to 
the  beef  dish,  cut  ofi"  my  modicum,  and  placed  it  before  me 
in  just  eighteen  minutes,  by  the  clock,  after  I  had  ordered  it. 

It  was  no  use.  I,  like  all  other  Americans,  was  com- 
pelled to  pay  this  eighteen  to  twenty  minutes  to  the  hotel 
proprietors,  besides  the  money  price  charged,  nolens  volens. 
No  matter  if  the  beef  stood  at  my  elbow,  and  a  waiter 
could  have  served  me  in  ten  seconds  ;  there  was  the  old 
English  roadside-inn  system  of  charging  at  the  bar  each 
item,  to  be  gone  through  with  just  as  was  done  to  their 
great-grandfathers,  and  that  must  be  followed  out;  and  here 
is  a  description  of  it,  and  what  caused  the  delay. 

AVe  will  suppose  that,  as  a  genuine  American,  you  come 
home  at  half  past  two,  or  five,  p.  m.,  to  dine,  and  had  not 


THE    CIRCUMLOCUTION    SYSTEM.  45 

left  written  insti'uctions  with  the  head-waiter  in  the  dining'- 
room,  when  you  went  out  in  the  morning,  that  you  should 
be  home  at  the  hour,  nor  what  to  provide  for  you. 

You  find  dinner  going  on,  and  sixty  or  eighty  persons 
may  be  dining  at  the  tables,  and  naturally  suppose,  as,  per 
bill  of  fare,  dinner  is  announced  as  "ready  "  at  those  hours, 
it  is  an  easy  matter  to  get  it.     Let  us  see. 

In  the  first  place,  if  you  are  a  stranger,  it  is  diflScult  to 
get  a  waiter.  There  is  no  polite  head-waiter,  as  in  Amer- 
ica, to  step  forward,  conduct  you  to  a  seat,  and  assign  one 
of  his  subordinates  to  attend  to  you.  The  head-waiter,  as 
you  will  see,  is  tremendously  busy  with  his  book  and  fig- 
ures, and,  owing  to  the  English  system,  the  number  of  sub- 
ordinate attendants  appears,  to  the  inexperienced  Amer- 
ican's eyes,  to  be  lamentably  insuflScient. 

Finally,  after  finding  for  yourself  a  seat,  you  succeed 
in  getting  the  attention  of  a  waiter  from  the  next  table, 
from  which  he  has  been  going,  and  to  which  he  has  been 
coming,  with  all  the  different  courses,  to  a  party  of  four  or 
five.  You  begin  to  order  from  the  bill  of  fare.  lie  pre- 
sents you  the  inevitable  blank  ticket  to  fill  out.  We  will 
suppose  that  you  wish  neither  soup  nor  fish,  so  that,  after 
writing  your  name  and  number  of  j'our  room  upon  the 
ticket,  you  write  roast-beef,  potatoes,  peas,  bread,  lettuce. 

The  waiter  takes  this  to  the  head-waiter  at  the  further 
end  of  the  long  room  ;  he  copies  it  into  a  book,  checks  it, 
and  sends  it  out  across  an  entry  to  the  bar-maid ;  she 
charges  it,  passes  it  back,  and  it  returns  the  length  of  the 
hall  and  goes  down  to  the  kitchen,  where  a  regular  requisi- 
tion is  made  for  it,  and  in  twenty  minutes  is  placed  before 
you,  if  there  are  not  too  many  ordei'S  ahead  of  you ;  but 
frequentl3^  if  you  have  not  ordered  in  advance  of  your 
coming,  and  "fixed  things"  with  some  waiter,  you  may  wait 
for  thirty  minutes,  or  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  before  a 
morsel  passes  your  lips,  and  yet  dinner  is  "  all  ready." 

American  readers,  who  are  so  promptly  served  at  their 


46  EVERY   ONE    TO    HIS    CALLING. 

own  hotel-tables,  will  appreciate  the  annoyance  of  this  cir- 
cumlocution, and  can  imagine  what  a  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
and  tremendous  fuss  generally,  there  is  at  the  usual  dining- 
hour. 

An  amusing  illustration  I  must  relate,  of  the  utter  igno- 
rance of  an  English  employe  of  any  detail  of  business  out- 
side of  his  own  particular  department,  although  the  fact  is 
frequently  commented  on  by  Americans.  One  would  sup- 
pose that  the  clerk  in  this  Great  Northwestern  Railway 
Hotel,  whose  duty  it  was  to  register  each  guest's  name  on 
arrival,  assign  him  a  room,  and  receive  payment  on  depar- 
ture, would  insensibly  acquire,  from  the  very  fact  of  ob- 
serving arrivals  and  departures  of  guests,  a  knowledge  of 
the  hours  of  arrival  and  departure  of  trains,  and  more 
especially  as  her  constant  position  (the  clerk  was  a  woman) 
was  within  a  dozen  feet  of  the  great  entrance-door  of  the 
hotel  into  the  station.  But  no  ;  it  was  not  her  business  to 
know,  and  she  really  knew  nothing  of  the  matter,  as  ap- 
peared by  the  following  dialogue  : 

"  At  what  hour  does  the  train  from  Chester  arrive  ?  " 

"  If  you  ask  the  porter,  he  will  tell  you." 

"  But  the  porter  is  not  here  at  present.  Don't  you  know 
whether  there  are  any  trains  that  arrive  in  the  forenoon?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell  you  ;  for  trains  be  coming  and 
going  all  day,  and  my  business  is  to  take  travellers'  names 
on  the  book,  and  assign  them  rooms.  It  is  the  porter  as 
knows  the  trains'  time." 

"  But  the  incoming  trains  stop  within  a  dozen  rods  of 
where  you  stand,  and  the  travellers  coming  to  the  hotel 
from  them'  come  lirst  directly  to  you  ;  you  surely  recollect 
whether  you  are  accustomed  to  see  any  from  Chester  by 
morning  trains." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  I  never  took  notice  when  they  come. 
I  knows  there  is  gentlemen  from  Chester  comes  here  often. 
Sir  Henry  Bowring  was  'ere  once  from  Chester,  but 
whether  'twas  in  the  morning  or  afternoon,  I  quite  forget. 
The  porter  will  tell  you." 


THE    LANGHAM    HOTEL.  47 

I  turned  to  the  porter,  who  had  now  arrived,  with  the 
same  question,  and  got  the  following  reply : 

"  Chester,  sir  ?  Tell  you  in  one  minute."  And  he  took 
down  a  well-thumbed  Bradshaw's  Guide,  and  after  consult- 
ing its  pages  about  five  minutes,  continued,  — 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  three  trains  in  forenoon,  two  in  afternoon  ;  " 
giving  the  hour. 

Now  the  bar-maid,  to  whom  I  first  applied,  acknowledged 
that  she  had  held  her  position  "  a  matter  of  eighteen 
months,"  and  the  incoming  trains  from  Chester  actually 
jarred  the  room  in  which  she  stood,  and  yet  she  had  not 
the  slightest  knowledge  of  their  hour  of  arrival,  "because 
it  is  the  porter's  business,  do  you  see  ?  "  The  porter  him- 
self was  not  up  in  the  time-table  sufficiently  to  answer 
without  refreshing  his  memor}^ ;  and  yet  this  is  a  very 
large   and  generally  well-kept  house. 


CHAPTER    III. 

The  Langham  Hotel,  in  London,  affected  by  Americans 
generally  on  their  first  visit,  seems  to  have  been  built  for 
the  express  purpose  of  showing  how  much  could  be  done 
in  the  exterior  and  two  lower  stories,  and  how  little  real 
comfort  could  be  provided  the  ordinary  practical  traveller. 

Imagine  an  hotel  with  the  lower  halls  those  of  a  palace 
in  extent  ;  lavatories,  smoking-rooms,  &c. ;  furnished  with 
brilliant  and  expensive  tiles  and  porcelain  ;  dining-room 
Englishly  luxurious  ;  drawing-room  elegant,  lofty,  and  well- 
lighted  ;  and  one  story  of  great  hall-like  rooms  extrav- 
agantl}''  expensive,  and  hundreds  of  other  rooms  without 
wardrobe  or  closet,  find  only  three  hooks  for  clothing,  and 
those  placed  on  the  chamber-door.  These  rooms,  (and  be 
it  known  they  are  not  third   or  fourth  rate,  but  considered 


48  ENGLISH    CUSTOM   VS.    AMERICAN    EEQUIEEMENT. 

very  desirable,)  when  a  gentleman  and  wife  get  into  them, 
with  two  trunks,  are  so  crowded  that  thei'c  is  scarcely  room 
to  move  about  to  the  two  chairs,  wash-hand  stand,  and 
dressing-table,  which,  with  the  bedstead,  constitute  the 
furniture. 

Fancy  how  an  American  tourist  ejaculates  compliments 
against  "the  directors,"  when  ho  goes  down  and  tells  the 
"  gentlemanly  clerk,"  in  his  little  corner  den,  that  he  has 
unpacked  his  clothing,  and  there  is  no  closet  in  his  room  in 
which  to  put  it,  and  no  pegs  on  which  to  hang  it  ;  and  the 
aforesaid  gentlemanly  clerk  "  tells  him  the  same  complaint 
had  been  made  hundreds  of  times  before  by  Americans,  and 
the  directors  of  the  hotel  company  have  had  their  attention 
called  to  it ;  but,  as  they  are  Englishmen,  they  cannot  be 
made  to  see  the  necessity  of  closets,  hooks  and  pegs,  in  a 
room  that  is  to  be  occupied  by  travellers  only  a  few  days  !  " 

Is  there  any  use  arguing  against  such  pig-headed  conceit 
as  this  ?  '  The  fact  is,  one  hundred  years  ago  an  Englishman 
travelled  with  a  portmanteau  and  one  change  of  clothing ; 
he  "  took  a  bed,"  —  that's  the  way  the  English  novels  have 
it  to  this  day,  —  "a  bed  at  an  inn,"  not  "  a  room  at  an  hotel," 
and  consequently  the  three  pegs  for  his  top-coat,  hat,  and 
wrapper  were  all-suflScient.  Inns  were  built  to  accommo- 
date that  style  of  travel ;  and  we  may  hope  that  in  fifty  or 
one  hundred  years  more,  if  the  thousands  of  American  trav- 
ellers continue  to  go  to  London,  the  idea  will  penetrate  the 
London  hotel-keeper's  brain  that  it  will  pay  to  have  con- 
venient, well-fitted  rooms  all  over  the  hou.se,  and  that  the 
return  for  such  needed  conveniences  will  be  a  lengthened 
stay  and  more  liberal  expenditure  by  the  guest. 

The  plan  seems  now  to  be,  to  make  a  portion  of  the  rooms 
as  inconvenient  as  possible,  in  order  to  drive  the  tourist  into 
the  very  high-priced  ones  ;  but  as  these  at  the  Langham 
are  generally  crowded  during  the  season,  it  only  has  the 
effect  of  rendering  tourists,  who  are  charged  enough  for  good 
rooms,  vexed  at  the  great  pretensions,  wretched  accommo- 


BEHIND    THE   AGE.  49 

dations,  and  utter  lack  of  proper  attention  that  they  find 
here.  It  is  impossible,  also,  to  get  good  service  except 
through  extra  feeing  of  the  servants. 

There  is  need  of  a  large,  well-kept  American  hotel  in 
London.  The  Langham  pays  an  enormous  return  to  its 
stockholders,  and,  having  the  field  to  itself,  makes  com- 
paratively little  effort  towards  any  innovations  for  American 
comfort.  The  very  clerks  argue  that  "  it  is  no  matter  if  the 
Americans  do  swear  at  the  'ouse  going  away  ;  there  is  al- 
lers  others  as  takes  their  room  soon  as  they  leaves  'em  ; 
so,  what's  the  hodds  ?  " 

Around  in  this  part  of  London  —  the  West  End  —  are 
numerous  comfortable  English  hotels,  nearly  every  one  of 
them  remodelled  from  former  aristocratic  dwelling-houses  : 
the  Edwards  House,  a  handsome  and  expensive,  well-kept 
one  ;  the  Brunswick,  and  several  others,  where  rooms  may 
be  had  for  from  two  to  twenty  guineas  a  week  ;  and  the 
Queen's,  on  Cork  Street,  Bond  Street,  a  small,  but  an  ex- 
ceedingly well-kept  and  reasonable  priced  one,  with  a  land- 
lord who  caters  to  American  notions.  It  has  the  old-fash- 
ioned rooms  of  a  fashionable  dwelling  of  fifty  years  ago, 
with  that  air  of  solidity,  old-fashioned  clumsiness,  and  incon- 
venience, that  makes  you,  as  an  American,  long  to  put  in 
an  army  of  carpenters,  painters,  gas-fitters,  and  plumbers, 
and  utilize  the  waste  space,  raise  the  ceilings,  and  lighten 
up  the  whole  affair  from  sombreness  to  cheerfulness. 

As  a  general  thing,  the  American,  on  his  return  to  Lon- 
don, after  a  few  years'  absence,  seems  to  find  everything 
just  as  he  left  it :  the  same  sign-boards,  same  streets,  same 
buildings,  and  same  shopmen ;  the  latter  a  trifle  older,  per- 
haps ;  but  nothing  seems  to  have  been  moved  out  of  place, 
especially  in  the  older  part  of  the  city.  So  unlike  our 
American  cities,  over  which,  perhaps,  a  fire  may  sweep, 
levelling  entire  districts,  and  upon  the  ruins  of  which,  in 
another  year,  would  rise  stately  edifices  of  increased  archi- 
tectural beauty,  upon  newly  laid-out  avenues,  so  that  he 
4 


60  MAGNIFICENT   IMPROVEMENTS. 

who  has  been  but  five  years  absent,  on  his  return  absolutely 
loses  his  way  in  streets  bearing  the  names,  and  in  that  part 
of  the  city  he  had  been  familiar  with  all  his  life  before. 

But  while  Regent  and  Oxford  Streets,  Trafalgar  Square, 
Temple  Bar,  and  the  Strand  wear  the  same  familiar  aspect, 
there  has  been  a  startling  change  at  the  foot  of  Ilolboru, 
for  at  the  point  where  the  street  used  to  run  down  to  Far- 
ringdon  Street  it  has  recently  been  bridged  over  with  a 
broad  and  splendid  viaduct,  and  the  last  vestiges  of  the  in- 
conveniences of  climbing  Holborn  Hill  have  been  removed. 

To  show  the  amount  expended  on  this  grand  improve- 
ment, which  really  connects  what  is  known  as  "  the  City  " 
with  those  great  main  thoroughfares,  Holborn  and  Oxford 
Streets,  it  is  only  necessary  to  state  that  the  cost  of  it  was 
about  two  million  pounds,  about  five  hundred  thousand 
pounds  being  obtained  back  by  sale  of  laud  on  the  sides 
of  the  viaduct  after  completion. 

The  American  reader  must  understand  that  this  great 
bridge,  or  viaduct,  was  to  obviate  the  inconvenience  and 
difficulty  of  descending  one  declivity  and  ascending  another, 
in  going  from  one  part  pf  the  city  to  another,  and,  high 
above  the  street  dividing  the  two  parts,  Farringdou  Street, 
which  covers  what  was  once  the  old  Fleet  Ditch.  Resi- 
dents of  Boston  may  fancy  a  broad  and  splendid  avenue 
running  from  the  head  of  Hancock  or  Temple  Street,  on 
Beacon  Hill,  high  above  Cambridge  Street,  to  the  brow  of 
another  hill  opposite,  and  they  ma}^  get  a  tolerable  idea 
of  this  great  work. 

The  difficulties  in  the  wa}'  when  this  work  was  begun 
may  easily  be  imagined.  Portions  of  whole  streets  in  the 
oldest  and  most  crowded  part  of  the  city  had  to  be  pulled 
down  ;  travel  and  business  in  some  of  the  most  crowded 
streets  diverted  ;  twelve  thousand  bodies  removed  from  old 
St.  Andrew's  churchyard,  which  was  cut  through  ;  and  an 
inconceivable  amount  of  litigation,  references,  and  other 
difficulties  to  be  encountered.     But  here  it  is,  finished,  and 


THE    WONDERS    OF    LONDON.  51 

one  of  the  greatest  and  most  successful  public  works  ever 
undertaken  in  London,  and  one  wliich  every' citizen  of  an 
American  city  ought  to  visit  and  examine  carefully  as  one 
of  the  sights  of  London,  and  as  an  illustration  of  the  thor- 
ough, complete,  and  magnificent  manner  in  which  any  great 
public  work  of  this  kind  is  performed  in  England. 

The  length  of  this  great  street  in  the  air  —  that  is,  from 
the  brows  of  the  two  hills,  from  Holborn  to  Newgate  Street 
—  is  fourteen  hundred  feet,  and  its  width,  exclusive  of  the 
space  occupied  by  buildings,  is  eighty  feet.  Of  this  space, 
fifteen  feet  is  used  each  side  for  side-walks,  leaving  a 
fifty- feet  granite-paved  roadway  in  the  centre.  At  the 
four  principal  points  on  the  bridge  over  Farringdon  Street 
are  colossal  statues  of  Commerce,  Agriculture,  Science,  and 
Art,  and  at  the  four  corners  of  the  bridge,  elegant  edifices 
in  the  Eenaissance  style  have  been  erected,  the  fronts  of 
which  are  ornamented  with  statues  of  several  of  London's 
eminent  lord  mayors.  It  was  opened  for  public  travel  in 
November,  1869,  by  Queen  Victoria,  with  great  parade. 

So  the  improvements  in  what  was  the  old  Smithfield 
Market  are  wonderful ;  the  new  Albert  Memorial  and  mon- 
ument gorgeous  ;  and  the  new  Bethnal  Green  Museum  in- 
teresting ;  but  the  old  streets  of  London  seem  to  resist  the 
march  of  progress  and  improvement  much  more  successfully 
than  those  in  our  American  cities,  where  buildings  half  a 
century  old  are  considered  antiquated. 

The  sights  and  wonders  of  London,  as  they  are  called, 
are  pretty  thoroughly  known  to  everybody  who  reads,  — 
the  Tower,  Westminster  Abbey,  St.  Paul's,  Houses  of  Par- 
liament, British  Museum,  galleries,  Exhibition,  and  places 
of  amusement.  But,  besides  all  this,  the  city  itself  is  a  won- 
der ;  scarce  a  street  but  has  its  history,  like  an  ancient  city. 
Hunt  up  its  record,  and  you  find  that  old  authors,  whom  you 
have  read  with  delight,  lived  in  it,  monarclis  had  ridden 
through  it,  tyrants  were  killed  in  it,  or  battles  fought 
through  it ;  or  that  its  very  name  is  linked  with  the  historic 


52  OLD    SMITHFIELD. 

records  of  hundreds  of  years  ago  ;  or  lias  been  so  gilded 
with  interest  by  the  novelist  that  it  is  almost  the  realization 
of  a  dream  to  walk  over  the  very  ground  and  among  the 
very  scenes  that  your  imagination  has  so  often  pictured  and 
populated. 

So  when  I  walked  down  Holborn  and  over  the  great  via- 
duct, and  looked  down  upon  Farringdon  Street  and  over  to 
Smithfield,  I  couldn't  resist  going  dowu  through  Giltspur 
Street,  and  over  to  the  magnificent  new  meat  market  in  old 
Smithfield.  What  an  historic  spot  it  is  !  Here  I  remem- 
bered what  horrors  had  been  enacted  under  the  reign  of 
Bloody  Mary,  for  it  was  here  that  the  fagots  blazed  and 
the  fierce  flames  consumed  the  martyrs  of  whom  we  have 
all  read  in  schoolboy  days. 

The  first  who  perished  here  under  the  reign  of  the  bloody 
papal  queen  was  the  noted  John  Rogers,  Avho  was  burned 
at  the  stake,  and  at  the  last  moment  refused  pardon  at  its 
price  —  recantation.  The  picture  of  his  martyrdom  at  the 
stake,  in  the  midst  of  the  flames,  "  with  his  wife  and  nine 
small  children,  with  one  at  the  breast,"  looking  on,  —  a 
rude  woodcut  in  our  fathers'  schoolboy  days,  —  is  familiar 
to  New  England  boys. 

Here  Anne  Askew  sufiered  for  her  Protestant  opinions  at 
the  dawn  of  the  Reformation  in  1546,  and  for  denying,  on 
examination,  her  belief  in  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation, 
after  having  been  subjected  to  frightful  tortures  on  the  rack, 
was  burned,  with  three  other  persons,  opposite  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's Church,  She,  too,  had  a  paper  handed  to  her,  while 
chained  to  the  stake,  promising  royal  pardon  if  she  would 
recant  her  belief  and  pronounce  it  error.  But,  like  the  rest 
of  the  noble  army  of  martyrs  who  were  the  victims  of  the 
merciless  cruelty  of  the  Romish  Church,  she  refused  to  lis- 
ten to  it,  and  perished  rather  than  preserve  life  at  the  ex- 
pense of  conscience. 

I  had  curiosity  to  inquire  where  the  spot  was  where  the 
burning  of  heretics  took  place,  and  learned   from  a  good- 


HISTORIC    GROUJTD.  53 

natured  Eng-lishman  that  it  was  supposed  to  be  opposite  tlie 
entrance  of  the  Church  of  St.  Bartholomew-the-Great,  which 
is  a  fragment  of  the  ancient  Priory  of  St.  Bartholomew, 
founded  in  the  time  of  Henry  I.,  in  the  year  1120  or  there- 
abouts, and  which  contains  some  fine  old  Norman  columns 
and  arches. 

In  the  year  1849,  near  the  spot  pointed  out  in  Smithfield 
hy  my  informant,  some  workmen,  who  were  digging  to 
open  a  new  sewer,  came  upon  a  heap  of  rough  stones  and 
ashes.  The  stones  were  blackened  with  fii'e,  and  beneath 
them  were  found  charred  human  bones  ;  and  this,  from  the 
best  accounts  of  antiquaries  and  old  documents,  was  decided 
to  have  been  the  site  of  the  stake  at  which  heretics  were 
burned  in  Smithfield. 

That  hero  of  the  romance  in  schoolboy  days,  "  The  Scot- 
tish Chiefs,"  —  William  Wallace,  —  was  barbarously  butch- 
ered —  it  could  not  be  called  executed  —  at  Smithfield,  by 
order  of  Edward  I.,  in  1305.  Here,  also,  in  Smithfield,  and 
opposite  old  St.  Bartholomew,  it  Avill  be  remembered,  fell  the 
rebel  Wat  Tyler,  in  1381,  stabbed  by  Walworth,  lord  mayor, 
while  dictating  terms  of  greater  freedom  for  the  people  to 
the  king,  Richard  II.,  then  a  boy  of  fifteen. 

Executions  of  criminals,  as  well  as  the  burning  of  mar- 
tyrs, took  place  at  Smithfield,  or  Smoothfield,  as  the  old 
historians  tell  us  it  was  called,  and  one  John  Roose,  a  con- 
victed poisoner,  was  boiled  to  death  there  in  a  caldron,  in 
1530.  Grand  tournaments  were  held  in  old  Smithfield,  in 
13Y4,  by  Edward  III.  Here  is  where  the  Bastard,  bx'other 
of  Charles,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  and  Lord  Scales,  brother-in- 
law  to  Edward  IV.,  fought  in  single  combat,  in  presence  of 
the  king,  in  1467. 

Smithfield  was  the  tournament  field  of  old,  the  place  of 
the  gibbet,  the  knightly  duelling-ground,  and  the  field  whore, 
in  the  reigns  of  the  Xorman  sovereigns  of  England,  citizens, 
artisans,  and  soldiers  contended  in  manly  exercises. 

And  here  in  Smithfield,  for  hundreds  of  years,  was  held 


54  THE  METROPOLITAN  MEAT  MARKET. 

the  celebrated  Bartholomew's  Pair,  that  we  all  have  read 
about,  and  wliich  Ben  Jonson  has  written  of  and  Hogarth 
pictured.  Tlie  great  caricaturist,  by-the-by,  was  baptized 
in  this  very  church  of  St.  Bartliolomew-the-Great. 

Smithfield  is  always  associated  in  the  minds  of  American 
readers  with  a  cattle-market,  and  no  wonder,  for  it  was  used 
for  that  purpose  continually  for  several  hundred  years. 
Some  idea  of  the  amount  of  business  that  used  to  be  done 
here  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  in  1846  there  were 
two  hundred  and  ten  thousand,  seven  hundred  and  fifty-seven 
head  of  cattle,  and  one  million,  five  hundred  and  eighteen 
thousand,  five  hundred  and  ten  sheep  sold  here.  The  sales 
used  always  to  be  for  cash.  When  seller  and  purchaser 
closed  a  bargain,  they  shook  hands,  and  no  papers  of  any 
kind,  other  than  bank-notes,  were  passed  in  this  way.  Ac- 
cording to  the  statistics,  over  seven  million  pounds  sterling 
were  paid  away  annually  in  this  market.  It  was  abolished 
in  1852,  as  a  nuisance,  and, removed  to  Islington,  as  the 
mud  and  filth  used  to  be  often  ankle-deep,  and  the  smell  and 
noise  of  live-stock  intolerable.  Smithfield,  however,  is 
really  one  of  the  most  historic  points  in  Old  London, 

The  Great  Metropolitan  Meat  Market,  that  has  now  sup- 
planted the  crowded  cattle-pens,  is  a  wonder  of  its  kind,  a 
huge  structure  of  red  brick,  with  conspicuous  towers,  and 
its  great  iron  entrance-gates  of  wrought  scroll-work,  twenty- 
five  feet  high,  nineteen  wide,  and  fifteen  tons  weight.  Inside, 
and  there  is  a  bewildering  scene  of  trade  and  traffic  in  every 
species  of  meat  and  poultry.  And  such  a  market !  Only 
think  of  three  acres  under  roof,  and  the  roof  a  graceful 
structure  of  iron  and  glass,  thirty  feet  above  the  pavement, 
through  which  abundant  light  and  air  are  let  in  upon  the 
busy  scene  below. 

The  dimensions  of  this  great  market  are  six  hundred  and 
thirty  feet  in  length  by  two  hundred  and  forty-six  feet  in 
width,  and  its  conveniences  the  best  of  modern  times ;  for 
underneath  the  market  proper  is  a  complete  railway  depot, 


WONDERS    OF    A    LONDON    MARKET.  55 

from  which  run  tracks  communicating  with  the  under- 
ground or  metropolitan  railway,  with  every  part  of  London, 
also  with  the  cattle  market  at  Islington,  and  indeed  the  coun- 
try round.  Occupants  of  the  market  have  also  cool  cellars 
beneath  for  the  storing  of  their  meats,  and  attached  are  ele- 
vators or  dumb  waiters  by  which  the  merchandise  can  be 
lowered  or  raised  at  pleasure.  Thus  the  market-man  can 
receive  his  meat  fresh  from  the  country  or  the  cattle  market 
by  rail,  store  it  in  his  cellar,  raise  it  from  the  railwaj'^-car  by 
elevator,  or  expose  it  for  sale  ;  and,  having  sold  it,  place  it 
once  again  on  the  railway-car,  and  send  it  to  any  part  of 
London  or  the  suburbs. 

Not  only  has  the  Metropolitan  (or  Underground,  as  we  call 
it)  railroad  communicating  tracks  in  the  depot  under  this 
market,  but  the  Midland,  the  London,  Chatham  and  Dover, 
and  the  Great  Western ;  and  a  train  of  one  or  the  other 
line  passes  through  it  every  two  minutes. 

The  shops  or  stalls  of  the  market  are  ranged  on  each  side 
of  the  principal  passage  of  the  immense  parallelogram,  and 
on  the  sides  of  the  cross  passages  or  streets  intersecting  it, 
and  are  one  hundred  and  sixty  in  number.  The  gi'cat  central 
avenue  is  nearly  thirty  feet  wide,  and  the  six  side  avenues 
about  twenty  feet. 

The  coiqy  d'ceil  —  looking  through  this  huge  glass-roofed 
structure,  with  its  beautiful  arched  roof  of  ornamental  iron 
arches,  pillars,  and  scrolls,  and  row  of  huge  glass  globes  for 
gas-lights  stretching  far  away  in  the  distance  —  is  beautiful 
in  the  extreme. 

But  then  the  wonders  of  the  stock  exposed  for  sale ! 
Mountains  of  beef,  hills  of  mutton,  whole  serried  ranks  of 
carcasses  hung  up,  game  by  the  cartload,  and  eggs  by  the 
chaldron.  Besides  these  I  saw  here  some  curious  things 
brought  to  market,  which,  if  they  did  not  disgust,  as  did  the 
heaps  of  live  snails  and  frogs  in  the  French  market,  none 
the  less  excited  astonishment,  because  it  never  occurred 
to  me   that  they  were   used   for  food.     Plovei's'   eggs,  for 


56  ADMIEABLE    ARRANGEMENTS. 

instance,  for  wliich  there  is  a  large  demand  at  this  market ; 
Egyptian  quails,  which  are  brought  alive  from  that  ancient 
country  by  thousands  ;  and  a  sort  of  eatable  eagle  from 
Norway  ;  French  geese,  American  grouse,  and  Belgian  pigs. 

The  conveniences  and  desirability  of  stalls  here  arc  fully 
appreciated,  and  there  is  always  great  competition  to  obtain 
them. 

Great  attention  has  been  paid  to  ventilation,  and  it  ap- 
pears with  success,  as  has  been  tested  during  the  heat  of 
summer  weather.  The  roof  is  so  arranged  as  to  let  in  an 
abundance  of  light  without  any  sunshine,  and  all  the  air 
desired  without  any  rain.  Twelve  great  hydrants  supply 
an  abundance  of  water  for  purposes  of  cleanliness  and  safety 
against  fire. 

This  new  market  was  opened  to  the  public  with  grand 
ceremony  in  November,  1868,  by  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Lon- 
don, the  Building  Committee  on  Market  Improvements,  and 
other  ofiScials.  Over  the  principal  entrance  an  orchestra 
was  erected,  in  which  Dan  Godfrey  flourished  his  baton  and 
led  his  famous  band  of  the  Grenadier  Guards.  Ten  thou- 
sand feet  of  gas-piping  were  laid  to  illuminate  the  building, 
and  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  people  partook  of  the  grand 
banquet  prepared  for  the  occasion. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Smithfield  has  been  the  market- 
place since  the  year  1150,  for  over  seven  centuries,  and  as  I 
take  leave  of  this  splendidly  designed  and  convenient  struc- 
ture, I  recall  the  remark  of  an  American,  whose  national 
pride,  and  perhaps  national  envy,  were  excited  by  the  en- 
comiums of  his  friends,  their  invidious  comparisons,  and 
moreover  their  praise  of  its  completeness. 

"  Complete  ?  Yes  it  ought  to  be,  considering  they  have 
been  seven  hundred  years  completing  it." 

I  found  myself  one  pleasant  day,  — they  do  now  and  then 
have  pleasant  days  in  London,  notwithstanding  all  the  talk 
about  rain  and  fogs,  and  Englishmen  always  carrying  um- 
brellas, —  I    found    myself    sauntering   down    the    Strand, 


THE    STKAXD.  57 

looking  ill  at  the  shop-windows,  and  approaching-  Temple 
Bar. 

The  Strand !  I  often  used  to  wonder  wliy  thoy  called  it 
so,  and  supposed,  and  corrcctl}^  the  reason  to  be  that  it  was 
the  strand  on  the  river's  bank,  as  it  really  was  in  ancient 
times  ;  but  the  street  which,  even  until  tlie  time  of  Henry 
VIII.,  was  a  grass-grown  way,  is  now  a  broad  thoroughfare, 
of  course  changed  in  all  save  name,  and  separated  from  the 
river  by  houses  and  sti'eets  that  occupy  the  space  that  was 
once  the  green  banks  of  the  river,  or  the  gardens  that  ex- 
tended to  the  river-banks  and  belonged  to  those  who  dwelt 
hero  in  pleasant  view  of  the  rolling  Thames.  Now  it  is  a 
broad  avenue,  known  as  the  thoroughfare  that  connects 
"the  City"  with  what  was  once  Westminster,  and  all  that 
remains  of  the  residences  of  the  ancient  nobility  who  used 
to  live  in  this  once  charming  location  on  the  river-bank,  are 
the  names  of  the  streets  that  are  called  after  the  estates 
they  were  laid  out  over. 

Thus  we  have  Northumberland  Street,  Yilliers  Street, 
Buckingham,  Salisbury,  Essex,  and  others  of  names  familiar 
in  English  history  ;  and  I  turned  down  one  little  coal-smoko 
smelling  street  of  monotonous  English  regularity,  called 
Craven  Street,  to  read  on  a  slab  inserted  in  front  of  one  of 
the  "lodgings-to-let"  looking  houses,  that  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin, the  American  philosoplier,  resided  there  during  his  stay 
in  London  ;  passed  Wellington  Street,  very  appropriately 
leading  to  Waterloo  Bridge,  then  the  elegant  St.  Mary-le- 
Grand  Cliurch,  and  then  St.  Clement's-Danes  Church,  where 
a  son  of  old  Canute  is  buried,  and  at  last  arrived  at  the 
ancient  barrier  between  Westminster  and  London,  —  an  ugly, 
unsightly  barrier,  foo,  even  if  it  was  designed  by  Sir  Chris- 
topher"Wren, 

Old  Temple  Bar,  a  clumsy  structure,  which  ever  and  anon 
there  is  a  stir  about,  and  dark  hints  that  it  shall  be  taken 
down,  for  it  is  a  bar  indeed  to  the  enormous  tide  of  travel 
that  suro-os  about  and  around  it  where  the  Strand  debouches 


58  TEMPLE    BAR. 

into  Fleet  Street.  Through  its  narrow  arclies  the  whole 
tide  of  travel  must  be  compressed,  and,  clumsy  old  barrier 
as  it  is,  it  is  one  of  the  antiquities  that  we  Americans  all 
like  to  look  upon,  associated  as  its  name  is  in  our  minds  with 
many  events  in  the  most  interesting  portion  of  England's 
history.  But  its  days  are  numbered,  and  although  English- 
men will  preserve  it  as  long  as  possible,  it  has  been  declared 
unsafe,  and  it  will  probably  be  razed  to  the  earth  ere  these 
lines  reach  the  reader's  eye. 

Through  Temple  Bar,  and  you  are  in  "  the  City,"  and  you 
need  not  go  a  dozen  paces  for  historic  points  or  for  old  land- 
marks that  are  fraught  with  interest  to  the  historian,  the 
antiquary,  and  the  scholar.  A  gossipy  investigating  saunter 
in  this  vicinity,  with  a  London  friend  well  read  up  on  the 
different  points  of  interest,  or,  perhaps  still  better,  alone  or 
with  a  friend  who  only  knows  of  them  as  you  yourself  do, 
by  historic  account,  and  the  searching  of  them  out  your- 
selves, has  quite  the  charm  of  antiquarian  research  and 
discovery. 

I  remember  I  had  brushed  up  my  recollection  of  old  Lon- 
don, and  fortified  it  soniewhat  by  digging  into  a  friend's 
library  for  some  hours,  so  that,  on  passing  through  Temple 
Bar,  I  at  once  began  to  recall  the  celebrated  dwellers  in 
Fleet  Street,  that  figure  in  the  biographies  of  English 
writers,  and  the  actors  and  authors  that  are  identified  with 
English  history  itself.  All  around  here  you  may  find  the 
names  of  streets,  remains  of  celebrated  resorts  that  you 
have  read  and  re-read  of  in  the  writings  of  tlie  oldest  and 
the  wisest  of  England's  authors.  The  quaint  antiquities 
of  old  London  are  on  every  side.  Through  the  Bar  I  went 
on  my  first  stroll,  but  got  no  farther  than  a  street  on  the 
left,  where  the  well-known  name  "  Chancery  Lane  "  arrested 
me  as  if  by  a  command. 

Halting  on  the  corner,  while  omnibuses  and  drays  roared 
past,  and  standing  oblivious  to  drivers  of  Hansom  cabs,  who 
drove  close  to  the  curb  in  expectation  of  a  customer,  I  began 


CHANCERY    LANE.  59 

to  think  of  poor  Miss  Flitc,  in  Dickens's  story  of  "  Bleak 
House,"  especially  as  a  little  bent  old  woman,  bag  on  arm, 
shambled  along-  directly  up  the  street  as  if  to  show  the 
way.  Ah !  now  I  remember.  It  was  "  on  the  eastern 
borders  of  Chancery  Lane,  that  is  to  say,  in  Cook's  Court, 
Cursitor  Street,  Mr.  Snagsby,  law-stationer,  pursues  his 
Liwlul  calling,"  —  according  to  the  "  Bleak  House,"  tenth 
chapter,  and  first  verse,  —  and  I  wondered  if  there  was  a 
Cursitor  Street,  or  a  Cook's  Court,  where  Mr.  Snagsby  kept 
his  stationer's  store,  and  Krook  his  rag-and-bottle  ware- 
house, that  looked  as  if  it  were  a  place  where  "everything 
was  bought  and  nothing  ever  sold." 

A  penny  to  a  street-boy  quickly  solved  this  mystery,  so 
far  as  the  streets  were  concerned  ;  for  I  was  piloted  up 
through  Chancery  Lane  —  occupied  chiefly  by  lawyers'  cham- 
bers, and  with  dozens  of  law-stationers'  shops,  where  blank 
forms,  pencils,  pens,  sealing-wax,  law  lists,  inkstands,  and 
bunches  of  quills,  with  the  old-fashioned  binding  of  cord 
about  them,  and  cutlery,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  were 
sold,  —  into  Cursitor  Street,  of  somewhat  similar  character  ; 
and  out  of  that  ran  Tooke's  (not  Cook's)  Court. 

What  a  halo  of  interest  a  novelist  will  throw  around  a 
narrow  old  alley  !  Ragged,  shirt-sleeved  men  stood  at  the 
corner,  and  slatternly  women  were  sauntering  here  and  there, 
as  I  entered  the  confines  of  Tooke's  Court ;  a  bloated-faced 
lounger  now  and  then  looked  at  me  curiously  as  I  passed. 
Tooke's  Court  evidently  don't  have  nowadays  a  prejudice  in 
favor  of  decently-dressed  people,  or  as  respectable  ones  as 
Mr.  Snagsby.  I  couldn't  see  in  the  little  narrow  place  any 
store  that  looked  like  the  successor  of  "  Pfeffer  and  Snagsby," 
but  I  did  see  "  Mrs.  Perkins  and  Mrs.  Piper,"  or  their  heirs, 
assigns,  or  representatives,  although  I  think  one,  if  not 
both,  was  of  the  Hibernian  persuasion,  and  one  stood  in  the 
middle  of  Cook's  (Tooke's)  Court,  "having  it  out"  in  a  war 
of  words  with  the  other  in  the  second  story  of  a  house,  under 
which  onions  and  other  fragrant  green-groceries  were  sold. 


60  REALIZING    r>ICKENs's    STOEIES. 

Then,  near  by,  was  a  liouse  with  two  stone  door-posts, 
upon  one  of  which  was  inscribed  that  "  wines  and  spirits  " 
were  sold,  and  against  both  of  which  leaned  tliree  or  four 
seedy,  beery-looking  men,  one  of  whom,  a  short  fellow  in  a 
cutaway  coat,  dirty  plaid  trousers,  and  a  battered  white  hat, 
and  with  a  red  kei'chief  about  his  neck,  I  set  down  at  once 
as  "  Little  Swills,"  and  the  door  the  entrance  to  "  The  Sol's 
Arms."  There  isn't  any  rag-and-bottle  sl)op  here  now,  but 
here  must  be  the  very  place  Old  Krook  moved  out  of,  for 
here  there  are  sliops  hard  by  where  one  would  think  "  noth- 
ing was  ever  sold."  And  this  is  the  scene  of  the  inquest, 
and  here's  where  Miss  Flite  lived,  and  Tulkinghorn  came, 
and  — 

"  Vas  you  lookin'  for  any  von,  guv'ner  ?  " 

I  looked  down  ;  the  fellow  whom  I  had  set  down  in  im- 
agination as  "  Little  Swills  "  stood  beside  me,  and  an  un- 
mistakable odor  of  gin  and  onions  flavored  the  atmosphere. 

"  Yes,  I  was  looking  for  Mr.  Krook." 

"  In  the  green-grocery  line  ?  " 

"  No  ;  the  rag-and-bottle." 

"  Eag-and-bottle,  guv'ner  ?  Veil,  I  don't  mind  showin' 
yer  a  'spectible  ole  lady  as  keeps  marine  stores  over  by 
Fetter  Lane  ;  but  Mr.  Crook,  in  the  rag-aud-bottle,  I  doesn't 
know  'im." 

"  Very  well,  it's  of  no  consequence;  "  and  T  turned  to 
go,  when,  as  usual,  touching  the  brim  of  his  battered  old 
hat,  he  said  : 

"  I  don't  s'pose  you'd  mind  the  matter  of  sixpence,  guv'- 
ner, for  the  hinformation." 

I  saw  one  of  his  friends  drawing  near  to  assist  in  tlio 
conversation,  and  therefore  dropped  the  coveted  coin  into 
his  hand,  and  passed  on,  not,  however,  without  overhearing 
him  communicate  to  his  companion  that  I  was  "  a  bloke  as 
was  lookin'  up  rag-and-bottle  shops  —  a  gon'leman  as  stood 
two  drains  —  come  along,  Bill." 

I   got  out   into   Chancery  Lane  again,  and  met  English- 


CHANCERY   LANE.  61 

looking  lawyers,  with  "fair  round  bellies,"  gray  side-whis- 
kers, respectable  black  suits,  gaiters,  and  fob  chains  with 
big  seals  ;  one  was  getting  into  a  trim-looking  brougham, 
and  giving  tlie  driver,  who  was  dressed  in  livery,  some 
directions  ;  and  the  other  was  glancing  at  his  watch,  and 
telling  a  Hansom  cab-driver  he  had  just  called  that  he  had 
just  time  to  catch  the  train.  Then  there  were  the  unmis- 
takable lawyers'  clerks,  and  lawj-ers'  boj^s,  besides  the  stream 
that  had  other  busitiess,  and  took  the  cut  of  Chancery  Lane 
to  get  from  Holborn  to  the  Strand. 

Here  in  Chancery  Lane  is  the  entrance  to  the  law  build- 
ings known  as  Lincoln's  Inn,  a  fine  old  gateway  adorned 
with  coats-of-arms  in  antique  carving.  We  might  look  in 
at  the  garden  and  over  at  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  and  while 
■wandering  round  among  this  dreamy  old  pile,  wonder  where 
Sir  Thomas  More  used  to  live,  or  Coke,  the  great  lawyer, 
and  Pitt,  Canning,  and  Bishop  Heber.  They  point  to  the 
wall  next  to  Chancery  Lane,  and  tell  you  that  Ben  Jonson 
worked  there  as  bricklayer,  and  actually  laid  part  of  it 
before  his  wit  and  brightness  were  discovered. 

Here  I  was  told,  in  chambers  in  the  square  leading  out 
of  Chancery  Lane,  was  the  room  where  Cromwell  came  to 
meet  Secretary  Thurloe,  and  to  lay  a  plan  for  the  enticing 
of  Charles  the  Second  and  his  young  brothers,  the  Dukes 
of  York  and  Gloucester,  from  their  exile  in  Bruges  into  his 
power,  —  a  plan  which  was  frustrated  by  a  clerk  who  was 
thought  to  be  asleep  in  the  office,  but  who  overheard  the 
whole  and  warned  Charles  in  time.  Here  also  King  Charles 
the  Second,  and,  in  1661,  with  Lord  Clarendon  and  others, 
had  a  jolly  good  Christmas  revel ;  and  here  also  the  noted 
Nell  Gv/inne  lived. 

Out  through  the  old  gateway  and  into  Chancery  Lane 
again,  —  for  I  was  really  on  the  way  to  the  Temple  Church, 
the  lodge  of  the  old  Knights  Templars,  —  when  the  Chan- 
cery Lane  signboard  had  caught  my  eye  and  led  me  mous- 
ing round  its  legal  and  historic  intricacies. 


62  AN   HISTORIC   LANDMARK. 

Just  out  of  Chancery  Lane  and  standing  in  Fleet  Street, 
I  look  at  old  Temple  Bar  again,  which  seems  to  have  little 
that  is  of  great  historic  intei'est  in  itself  to  render  it  worthy 
the  jealous  preservation  with  which  it  has  been  guarded.  It 
was  built  in  1670,  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  soon  after  the 
great  London  fire,  and  its  chief  celebrity  seems  to  be  that 
the  heads  of  people  executed  for  high  treason  used  to  be 
stuck  up  on  it.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  dividing  line  or  barrier 
of  the  city  of  London  from  the  city  of  Westminster,  or  city 
from  Shire,  —  a  fact  to  be  remembered  by  the  curious 
American  tourist  who  wishes  to  note  "  how  London  has 
grown."  The  room  over  the  arch  is  hired  by  Messrs, 
Child  and  Co.,  a  banking  firm,  for  the  storage  of  their  old 
account-books,  and  contains  two  or  three  tons  of  them. 

But  the  spot  on  which  Temple  Bar  stands  is  inseparably 
connected  with  the  historic  events  of  England,  for  here 
passed  Edward  the  Black  Prince  in  triumph  after  the  battle 
of  Poictiers.  Henry  the  Fifth  made  his  triumphal  entry 
through  the  old  Temple  Bar,  or  former  structure  of  wood, 
after  his  great  victory  of  Agincourt  in  1415.  Here  Anne 
Boleyn,  Henry  the  Eighth's  beautiful  queen,  was  welcomed, 
and  also  his  daughter,  Queen  Bess,  passing  to  her  corona- 
tion in  1558.  Through  Temple  Bar  Edward  the  Fourth 
conducted  the  beautiful  Elizabeth  Woodville  as  his  bride  to 
her  coronation  ;  and  here  also  passed  the  wife  of  Henry  the 
Seventh  to  a  like  ceremony. 

It  is,  perchance,  because  the  clumsy  old  pile  marks  the 
spot  of  so  many  interesting  events,  and  that  it  is  a  land- 
mark from  which  so  many  others  can  be  located,  that  Lon- 
don hesitates  to  level  it  to  the  ground. 

That  gentle  old  fisherman,  Izaak  Walton,  lived  near  the 
corner  of  Chancery  Lane  and  Fleet  Street,  "  on  the  north 
side  of  Fleet  Street,  two  dcK)rs  west  of  the  end  of  Chan- 
cery Lane,"  just  about  where  I  was  standing,  said  one  old 
history  ;  and  another  puts  him  down  as  living  in  Chancery 
Lane,  seven  doors  from  Fleet  Street,  from  1627  to  1644. 


CLASSIC    GROUXD.  63 

On  the  north  side  of  Fleet  Street  stands  St.  Dunstan's 
Clmrch,  near  Temple  Bar.  My  earliest  recollection  of  the 
courageous  saint  for  whom  this  church  is  named,  is  of  a 
spirited  picture  of  him,  where  he  was  represented  in  the 
act  of  holding  his  Satanic  Majesty  by  the  nose  with  a  pair 
of  red-hot  tongs  ;  for  Dunstan  was  a  famous  worker  in  iron 
and  brass,  and  was,  it  will  be  remembered,  forging  iron 
work  in  his  cell  when  the  Evil  One  appeared  to  him.  Mucli 
to  my  chagrin,  however,  I  found  that  Dunstan  neither  built 
nor  founded  this  church,  but  that  it  was  built  on  the  site 
of  an  old  one,  in  1829.  And  the  old  one  was  built  about 
the  year  1200,  over  two  hundred  years  after  the  devil-seizing 
saint  had  been  laid  comfortably  away  to  rest  under  the  high 
altar  of  Canterbury  Cathedral. 

But  it  is  worth  while  to  remember  that  all  around  the  old 
St.  Dunstan's  were  some  of  those  famous  Fleet-street  pub- 
lishers who  printed  the  earliest  editions  of  some  of  the 
most  celebrated  books  in  the  English  language :  John 
Smethwicke,  "under  the  dial,"  who  printed  "Hamlet" 
and  "  Romeo  and  Juliet ;  "  Richard  Marriott,  who  pub- 
lished Quarles's  "  Emblems,"  Butler's  "  lludibras,"  and 
Izaak  Walton's  "Complete  Angler;"  and  Mathias  Walker, 
who  printed  Milton's  "  Paradise  Lost." 

All  around  here,  within  a  few  rods  of  the  corner  of 
Chancery  Lane  and  Fleet  Street,  every  street  and  alley  is 
celebrated.  Sam  Johnson,  Ben  Jonson,  Goldsmith,  Cowley, 
Michael  Drayton,  Shenstone  the  poet,  and  a  host  of  others, 
have  made  it  classic  ground.  Here  is  Fetter  Lane,  the  next 
street  to  Chancery  Lane,  that  runs  up  to  Holborn,  and 
where  Dryden  used  to  live  ;  and  here  is  the  house,  whi(ih  is 
pointed  out  to  you  ;  and  Dr.  Johnson  is  also  said  to  have 
lived  in  this  lane.  Indeed,  all  the  streets  in  this  vicinity 
seem  to  have  some  reminiscence  of  the  great  lexicographer, 
so  much  so  that,  one  dreamy  summer's  day,  when  I  was 
prying  around  in  some  of  the  quiet,  clean,  enclosed  courts, 
surrounded  by  quaintly  furbished-up  old  buildings,  whose 


64  THE    KNIGHTS    TEMPLARS. 

rooms  were  lawyers'  offices,  it  seemed  as  thoug-h  the  huge 
bulk  of  the  old  lellow  might  very  naturall3'-  shamble  across 
the  pave  in  his  cocked  hat  and  knee-breeches,  as  he  had 
done  when  living. 

But  I  came  down  through  Temple  Bar  to  visit  the  old 
Temple  Church,  the  famous  church  or  asylum  of  the  Knights 
Temphirs  from  1184  to  1310.  This  ancient  order  first  estab- 
lished themselves  on  High  Ilolborn,  but  after  a  time,  in- 
creasing in  strength  and  riches,  purchased  a  large  tract  of 
land  extending  from  Fleet  Street  to  the  river.  The  Tem- 
ple was  in  ancient  times  really  a  large  monaster}'  of  military 
monks,  arranged  for  the  residence  of  the  abbot,  or  prior, 
as  he  was  called,  brethren,  knights,  and  serving  brethren. 
It  consisted  of  a  church,  for  worship  and  the  religious  cer- 
emonies attending  the  admission  of  approved  candidates 
into  the  ranks  of  the  brotherhood,  a  council-chamber,  rough 
quarters  or  barracks,  and  humble  fare  for  the  knights  them- 
selves ;  cloisters,  and  the  beautiful  field  and  garden  extend- 
ing down  to  the  river-banks,  in  which  horses  were  exercised, 
and  the  knights  themselves  had  opportunity  for  military 
exercise. 

The  fame  of  this  order  in  the  crusades,  their  original 
humility,  their  days  of  proud  magnificence,  their  vows  of 
chastity,  to  devote  their  entire  energies  to  wresting  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  from  the  hand  of  the  Saracen,  their  prog- 
ress h'nm  rigorous  military  monks  to  proud  knights  with 
regal  possessions,  their  power  and  influence  from  embracing 
the  most  powerful  nobles  of  the  land  among  their  numbers, 
and  their  unquestionable  valor,  render  them  among  the  most 
prominent  figures  in   history. 

For  two  hundred  years  all  Europe  rang  with  their  ex- 
ploits, and  it  was  not  until  their  wealth  became  so  great  as 
to  excite  the  greed  and  cupidity  of  pontiffs  and  sovereigns, 
that  the  charges  for  monstrous  crimes  were  brought  against 
them  by  their  accusers.  The  Templars,  as  time  rolled  on, 
doubtless  were  less  rigorous  with  regard  to  their  vows,  and 


THE    templars'    HOME.  65 

perhaps  were  somewhat  arroj^ant ;  but  after  all,  their  great 
crime  in  the  eyes  of  their  ancient  accusers  was  their  wealtli, 
and  the  charges  brought  against  them  were  in  many  cases 
absurd  and  ridiculous. 

To-day  their  memory  is  perpetuated  by  a  Masonic  order, 
wlio  profess  to  have  certain  rites  and  ceremonies  similar  to 
those  of  the  ancient  knights,  and  to  "  work  "  somewhat  as 
did  these  mail-clad  warriors,  in  the  initiation  of  candidates 
into  their  order. 

Passing  through  Temple  Bar,  I  turned  into  a  little  court 
or  alley,  which  brought  me  to  the  old  edifice,  rich  in  histor- 
ical associations,  shut  in  by  surrounding  dwellings,  and 
apparently  sunken  somewhat  below  the  present  level  of  the 
street.  Around  nearly  all  very  old  buildings  the  earth 
seems  to  have  gained  additional  crust  dui'ing  the  hundreds 
of  years  they  have  stood,  and  they  have  not  risen,  like 
living  and  moving  things,  to  its  surface  ;  for,  according  to 
antiquaries  who  are  interested  in  the  exhumation  of  ancient 
Roman  remains  beneath  the  surface  of  modern  London,  the 
soil  rises  one  foot  every  century. 

But  as  we  stand  in  this  inclosed  space,  hemmed  closely 
in  by  surrounding  buildings  on  every  side,  we  can  hardly 
have  a  correct  idea  of  what  this  beautiful  house  of  the 
Templars  was  over  six  hundred  years  ago,  when  this  grand 
round  lodge,  —  for  the  old  part  of  tlie  church  that  remains 
is  circular,  —  with  the  splendid  colonnade  of  pillars,  and 
lofty,  grooved  roof,  which  still  remain,  stood  rich  in  archi- 
tectural splendor  upon  the  banks  of  the  river  Thames, 
commanding  a  pleasant  view  of  the  rolling  stream  beyond 
tlie  space  of  ground  between  church  and  river. 

The  Temple  Church,  which  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
historical  edifices  in  London,  is  at  the  same  time  one  of  the 
most  chaste  and  beautiful  in  its  architecture.  I  was  struck 
with  this  at  the  very  threshold,  where  I  halted  beneatli  the 
old  semicircular  arched  Norman  doorway,  to  reach  which  I 
had  to  descend  a  few  steps,  and  the  deep  recess  of  which 
5 


66  THE    TEMPLE    CHURCH. 

was  superbly  ornamented  with  sculptured  ornaments,  elab- 
orately carved  pillars,  foliated  capitals,  and  twisted,  carved 
work  overhead.  Passing-  the  leaves  of  the  old  Norman 
door,  which  closed  behind  me  with  a  clang,  as  of  the  fall 
of  a  portcullis,  I  was  within  this  ancient  structure,  beautiful 
in  its  effect  and  majestic  in  its  simplicity. 

The  Temple  Church,  it  should  be  understood,  is  really 
two  distinct  churches.  The  first,  or  Round,  in  which  I 
stood,  is  the  older,  having  been  consecrated  in  1185,  and 
was  built  by  the  Knights  after  a  model  of  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  at  Jerusalem.  The  other  portion  of 
the  church  is  square,  and  of  different  style  of  architecture. 
It  was  finished  in  1240.  The  great  fire  of  London,  in  166G, 
rushed  up  almost  to  the  very  walls  of  the  old  Temple 
Church  ;  and  another,  in  16*78,  destroyed  a  greater  part  of 
what  were  known  as  the  "residential  buildings"  of  the  old 
Temple.  The  ceiling  of  the  interior  is  richly  frescoed  and 
decorated  with  the  lamb.  Templars'  cross,  and  other  em- 
blems of  the  order — of  course,  modern  restoration.  In 
fact,  the  arrangement  of  the  interior,  with  the  exception  of 
walls,  pillars,  and  pavement,  has  been  changed  very  much 
since  the  days  of  the  old  crusaders. 

The  round  church  remains  in  form  as  originally  built,  on 
the  exterior,  except  that  it  has  been  re-faced  with  stone. 
The  diameter  of  the  round  is  fifty-eight  feet,  and  there  are 
said  to  be  but  three  other  churches  in  England  of  this  form. 
The  architecture  is  one  of  the  earliest  specimens  of  pointed 
arches  intermingled  with  round  arches.  The  walls  are  five 
feet  thick. 

No  one  who  has  read  of  the  tremendous  struggles  of  the 
crusades,  when  from  time  to  time,  during  one  hundred  and 
seventy  years,  with  a  valor  amounting  to  religious  frenzy, 
the  whole  of  Christian  Europe  sought  with  unflagging  en- 
ergy to  redeem  the  Holy  Sepulchre  from  the  hands  of  the 
Moslem,  but  has  recognized  the  Knights  Templars  foremost 
in  every  onset,  and  bravest  in  every  battle  ;   and  it  is  inter- 


SCENE    OF   INITIATION.  67 

esting  to  stand  here  in  the  very  centre  of  their  ancient 
home  ;  here,  where  they  were  charged  to  be  brave,  honora- 
ble, and  true  as  a  duty  ;  to  stay  not  for  mountain,  sea,  or 
desert,  and  spare  not  even  life  in  the  effort  to  rechiiin  the 
birthplace  of  Christianity  from  the  grasp  of  the  infidel ; 
here  they  knelt  and  pronounced  their  vows,  and  from  here 
went  forth  on  campaigns  against  the  infidel. 

As  I  stood  in  the  centre  of  this  renowned  temple,  and 
looked  up  to  the  ring  of  Romanesque  windows  above  the 
old  Norman  arches,  and  upon  six  clustered  pillars,  with 
their  sculptured  capitals  upholding  the  vaulted  roof,  T  could 
not  help  thinking  that  here  might  have  been  the  very  spot 
where,  when  with  doors  closely  guarded,  and  brethren 
ranged  around  in  the  robes  and  badges  of  the  order,  was 
the  altar  at  which  the  novice  knelt;  and,  after  having  pro- 
nounced his  vows,  and  being  instructed  in  his  duty,  with 
impressive  ceremonies  by  the  Grand  Master,  received  arms 
and  equipments,  and  a  lecture  with  each,  and  lastly  his 
sword,  and  the  celebrated  white  mantle  with  the  red  cross. 

Here  in  this  circular  sanctuary  have  stood  some  of  the 
bravest  hearts  that  ever  beat  beneath  a  steel  corselet ;  here 
have  been  raised  some  of  the  stoutest  hands  that  ever 
swung  mace  or  battle-axe,  in  solemn  oath  to  fight  for  the 
Christian  religion,  and  to  wrench  the  Holy  Places  from  the 
hand  of  the  Mussulman  ;  here  have  stood  princes,  kings, 
potentates,  monks,  priests,  knights,  —  all  men  whose  names 
and  deeds  are  imperishable  in  history ;  aye,  and  here  at  our 
very  feet  rest  the  ashes  of  those  who  have  marched  over 
the  blinding  sands  and  under  the  burning  sun  of  the  East, 
beneath  the  banner  of  the  cross,  or  ridden  with  the  stalwart 
Richard  at  the  battle  of  Acre,  and  fronted  the  forces  of 
Saladin  himself. 

Here  rests  one  of  those  who  forced  King  John  at  Runny- 
mede  to  sign  Magna  Charta  ;  and  here,  under  the  protection 
of  the  knights,  dwelt  John  himself  for  a  time,  many  of  his 
public  documents  being  dated  from  this  place.     After  a  look 


68  THE    TEMPLAR    EFFIGIES. 

around  at  the  beautiful  pillars,  the  lofty  arches,  and  pictured 
windows,  tlie  eye  foils  to  the  most  interesting'  objects,  the 
monumental  efSgies  of  Kuig-hts  Tenyplars  that  lie  in  g-roups 
in  the  central  aisle. 

First,  in  full  Templar's  costume,  with  sword  at  side,  right 
arm  on  breast,  and  the  left  supporting  his  long  shield,  lies 
Geoffrey  de  Magnaville,  who,  it  seems,  had  rather  a  difficult 
task  of  it  in  getting  his  mortal  remains  into  the  sacred  spot; 
for,  having'  rebelled  against  King  Stephen,  and  connnitted 
various  bad  acts,  he  died  excommunicated  and  forsaken  by 
all  save  his  Templar  brethren.  They  clothed  him  in  full 
costume,  and,  fearing  the  wrath  of  the  Churcli  if  they 
should  bury  him  in  consecrated  ground,  rolled  him  up  in  a 
winding-sheet  of  lead,  and  hung  him  suspended  in  a  leaden 
coffin  from  a  tree  in  the  garden,  till  they  were  able,  several 
years  afterwards,  to  soften  the  papal  heart,  and  inter  him 
and  his  leaden  hammock  beneath  the  portico  of  the  western 
door  of  the  Temple,  where  even  the  iron  tramp  of  his  breth- 
ren of  the  order  over  his  head  failed  to  disturb  his  sleep. 

Next  we  stand  beside  the  effigy  of  the  bold  and  faithful 
Earl  of  Pembroke,  who  served  his  royal  master,  Heniy  III., 
so  faithfully,  and  was  indeed  well  worthy  the  title  of  Pro- 
tector during  that  monarch's  minority.  lie  died  in  May, 
1219,  and  his  effigy  represents  him  with  his  feet  on  a  lion 
and  hand  on  his  sword.  Next  comes  the  sculptured  figure 
of  Lord  de  Ros,  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  barons,  but  no 
Templar,  for  he  has  no  beard  and  wears  long  hair,  Avhich  the 
rules  of  the  order  did  not  permit.  He  was  one  of  Coeur- 
de-Lion's  knights,  however,  and  one  of  the  barons  who 
forced  King  John  to  sign  Magna  Charta.  This  effigy  is  one 
of  the  best  of  any  in  the  church. 

Among  the  others,  we  are  told,  is  another  baron,  who 
married  King  John's  daughter  ;  while  William  Plantagenet, 
son  of  Henry  III.  (marked  by  a  rigid  stone  coffin),  Gilbert 
Marshall,  and  other  forgotten  knights  of  olden  time,  mingle 
their  dus't  together,  and,  although  wrought  with   so  much 


REFINEMENT    OF    CRUELTY.  69 

care,  the  remainder  of  these  sculptured  mementos  but  per- 
petuate the  military  costumes  of  those  they  represent,  not 
even  marking  the  spot  beneath  which  they  were  buried,  or 
recording  those  names  with  which  doubtless  their  countiy 
rang  in  their  day  ;  for  inexorable  time,  in  a  few  centuries, 
obliterates  all  except  "there  lived  a  man." 

This  fine  old  church  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Knights 
Hospitallers  in  1324,  till  that  old  tyrant,  Henr^'  Vlll., 
abolished  that  order,  and  they  leased  it  to  the  students  of 
law,  in  whose  possession  it  has  ever  since  remained. 

It  is  a  step  downwards,  somewhat,  to  come  from  the  time 
of  mail-clad  knights,  whoso  armed  tread  made  these  old 
walls  ring  with  their  clang,  to  what  we  are  wont  to  call  old 
times,  and  might  make  one  think  "  to  what  base  uses,"  &c., 
when  we  find  that  this  very  part  of  this  old  historic  spot 
was  formerly  a  place  of  rendezvous  for  lawj'crs  of  the 
Temple,  with  their  witnesses ;  for  old  Hudibras  tells  of 
them  — 

"That  ply  i'  th'  Temple,  under  trees  ; 

Or  walk  the  round  with  knights  o'  th'  posts, 

About  the  cross-legged  knights,  their  hosts  ; 

Or  wait  for  customers  between 

The  pillar  rows  of  Lincoln's  Inn." 

But  the  lawyers  only  come  here  now,  when  they  do  come, 
for  worship,  for  the  Temple  Church  is  now  a  place  of  reli- 
gious worship,  belonging  to  the  lawyers  of  the  societies  of 
the  Inner  and  Middle  Temple  of  London. 

Half-way  up  the  winding  staircase  that  led  to  the  Tri- 
forium,  the  large  circular  gallery  surrounding  the  overarch- 
ing dome,  between  the  vaulting  and  roof,  is  the  little 
penitentiary  cell  of  the  Temple,  formed  into  the  solid  walls, 
and  measuring  only  four  feet  and  a  half  in  length  by  two 
and  a  half  in  breadth,  so  that  the  unfortunate  knight  who  had 
transgressed  the  rules  of  the  order  could  not  lie  down  within 
it,  but,  with  a  refinement  of  cruelty  worthy  the  times,  an 
aperture  was  left  so  that  he  could  hear,  see,  and  join  in  the 


70  THE    GRAA-E    OF    GOLDSMITH. 

devotional  ceremonies  of  the  church.  It  is  positively  known 
that  Walter  Le  Bacheller,  Grand  Preceptor  of  the  order,  was 
confined  and  died  in  this  cruel  prison,  and,  could  its  cruel 
walls  speak,  we  might  know  of  others  who  have  languished 
in  their  stony  embrace. 

Up  in  the  Triforium,  if  any  one  has  a  taste  in  that  direc- 
tion, can  be  examined  a  host  of  monuments  that  were  for- 
merly scattered  in  and  about  the  church.  Here  is  that  of 
Plovvden  the  jurist,  Howell,  author  of  a  once  celebrated 
series  of  letters,  and  ancestor  of  Gibbon  the  historian.  Lord 
Chancellor  Thurloe,  and  other  slabs,  tablets,  and  sculptures 
chronicling  the  deeds,  virtues,  and  characters  of  forgotten 
judges,  long  passed-away  scholars,  and  an  array  of  legal 
talent  whose  epitaphs  are  rich  in  Latin  texts  and  quotations. 
It  is  indeed  a  museum  of  old  monuments,  and  was  well 
arranged,  when,  in  1842,  seventy  thousand  pounds  were 
laid  out  in  restorations.  A  pleasant  place,  perhaps,  for  an 
antiquary,  this  garret  full  of  tombstones,  but  one  which  the 
average  tourist  will  not  spend  much  time  in. 

Out  into  the  old  burial-ground  about  the  building,  we 
stop  a  moment  at  the  monumental  slab  of  Oliver  Goldsmith, 
who  is  buried  somewhere  in  the  churchyard,  but  where,  it  is 
not  positively  known.  It  is  but  a  step  or  two  to  the  Temple 
Garden,  a  green  island  in  a  sea  of  brick  and  stone,  sur- 
rounded by  the  hum  and  roar  of  the  metropolis,  that  lashes 
its  waves  of  busy  life,  its  smoke,  dust,  and  roar,  to  the  very 
verge.  Shorn,  much  as  it  is,  of  its  former  fair  proportions, 
it  is,  from  very  contrast  to  its  rude  surroundings,  a  pleas- 
ant spot ;  once  a  delightful  garden,  sloping  to  the  river 
side,  where  knights  and  squires,  lawyers  and  judges,  yes, 
and  priests  and  monarchs,  strolled. 

But  'tis  Shakspoare  that  has  invested  the  place  with  its 
chief  charm,  for  here  he  places  the  scene  of  the  breaking  out 
of  that  fatal  and  bloody  fieud  of  the  houses  of  York  and 
Lancaster,  from  which  came  the  War  of  the  Roses,  Here 
Richard  Plantagenet  plucked  his  white  rose  and  called  upon 


THE    THAMES    EMBANKMENT.  71 

his  friends  who  thought  he  had  pleaded  truth,  to  pluck 
white  roses  too  ;  while  young  Somerset,  equally  confident, 
called  on  his  friends  to  pull  red  roses  for  his  cause.  And 
then  ensued  that  memorable  dialogue,  as  natural  to-day, 
when  opponents  detract  with  sneers  each  other's  cause,  as 
then. 

But  knights,  princes,  warriors,  and  all  have  passed  away  ; 
and  so  must  our  dream  of  old  times,  as  we  emerge  once 
more  into  the  crowded  street,  amid  the  roar  of  vehicles  and 
the  busy  activity  of  the  mass  of  humanity  that  surges  and 
flows  around  us  on  every  side. 

And  where  shall  we  go  next  ?  asks  the  new  tourist.  From 
Temple  Bar  scarce  any  direction  can  be  taken  but  historic 
ground  will  be  trodden,  and  be  the  wanderer's  thouglits  not 
on  history  but  on  city  sights,  he  may,  within  a  short  distance, 
encounter  the  latter  in  every  direction. 

Down  here  amid  the  thunder  of  the  cit3%  one  seems  to 
get  some  idea  of  the  vastness  of  London.  After  you  cross 
over  the  huge  viaduct  at  the  foot  of  Ilolborn,  you  seem  to 
feel  the  pulsations  of  its  mighty  heart ;  the  throngs  coming 
and  going,  the  inextricably  entangled  confusion  of  vehicles, 
and  further  on,  the  great  bridges  with  railroad  trains  tliunder- 
ing  over  them  almost  every  moment ;  or  descending  an  iron 
staircase  down  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  you  find 
iron  veins  stretching  off  in  shining  lines  far  into  the  distant 
darkness,  with  the  trains  ever  coming  and  ever  gohig,  as 
the  underground  railway  plies  its  never-ceasing  business. 

A  walk  towards  tlio  Thames,  and  that  wonderful  improve- 
ment, the  Thames  Embankment,  bursts  upon  the  view. 
Along  what  was  once  the  shore,  where  in  old  times  were 
mud  and  slime,  rotting  hulks,  foul  water,  and  old  wharves, 
dilapidated  old  buildings  of  a  forgotten  age,  old  warehouses, 
ship  and  boat  buildings,  and  all  those  unsightly  objects  of 
the  river's  bank  that  have  been  so  graphically  described  by 
Harrison  Ainsworth  and  Charles  Dickens,  now  runs  a  mag- 
nificent road  one  hundred  feet  wide,  its  wall  towards  the 


72  THE    LONDON   BRIDGES. 

river  being*  of  splendid  hewn  granite,  and  all  along  it  a  fine 
qua^^  reclaimed  from  the  river. 

But  at  what  a  tremendous  expense  are  city  improvements 
made  here,  for  tliis  vast  one  had,  in  1873,  already  cost  over 
one  million  and  six  hundred  thousand  pounds  sterling,  or 
more  than  eight  million  dollars  of  our  money  ;  even  this 
does  not  include  the  expense  of  widening  and  altering  the 
streets  that  approach  it ;  and  it  was  not  then  completed. 
Tlie  money,  to  pay  for  this  improvement,  is  raised  by  a  tax 
of  three  pence  to  the  pound  on  all  ratable  property  in  Lou- 
don, and  from  the  coal  and  wine  duties. 

Of  course  London  Bridge  is  the  first  one  everybody  visits. 
Only  think  of  a  bridge  over  which  one  hundred  and  ten 
thousand  people  and  twenty  thousand  vehicles  pass  every 
twenty-four  hours  1  The  old  London  Bridge  of  the  novelist 
is  gone,  and  this  present  great  nine  hundred  feet  stretch  of 
granite  was  finished  in  1831,  and  cost  over  two  million 
pounds  sterling  I  There's  a  city  item  that  gives  an  idea  of 
the  cost  of  city  improvements  in  the  modern  Babylon.  The 
great  Waterloo  Bridge,  which  is  thirteen  hundred  and  eighty 
feet  long  and  forty-three  Avido,  cost  a  million  pounds,  and, 
although  charging  but  a  halfpenny  toll,  takes  about  ten 
thousand  pounds,  or  fifty  thousand  dollars,  a  year  from  foot- 
passengers  alone  ;  and  the  beautiful  Westminster  Bridge, 
eleven  hundred  and  sixty  feet  long  and  eighty-five  feet 
wide,  is  a  spot  from  which  there  is  a  fine  view  of  that  won- 
derful piece  of  "  gingerbread  work,"  the  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment. The  view  upon  and  from  these  bridges  at  night, 
when  all  the  lamps  are  lighted,  is  one  that  should  be  seen, 
being  a  scene  of  singular  and  striking  effect. 

The  American  looks  with  astonishment  at  the  cheap,  and 
to  him  ohl-fasliioned,  looking  buildings  in  Regent  Street, 
fashionable  street  of  shops  ;  there  are  no  marble  palaces, 
extravagant  buildings  of  outrageous  architecture,  as  in 
Broadway,  New  York ;  but  in  the  way  of  merchandise 
everything  that  mono}'  can  buy  is  found  in  stock.      A   ride 


THE    WEST    END.  73 

up  to  the  West  End  or  the  fashionable  part  of  the  city,  in 
the  quiet  old  squares,  looking  at  the  exterior  of  the  houses 
of  sombre  aspect,  one  hardly  can  realize  the  magnificence 
of  the  interiors,  rich  in  upholstery,  elegant  furniture,  paint- 
ings, statuary,  and  all  that  makes  living  luxurious.  Ser- 
vants answer  at  the  door  instanter,  trained  to  the  politest 
deference,  even  in  tone  of  voice,  and  skilful  in  deferring  to 
master's  and  mistress's  wishes  or  whims.  The  service  in 
an  aristocratic  English  family,  despite  all  the  ridicule  of  ser- 
vantgalism  or  of  John  Thomas,  seems  to  me  to  be  as  near 
perfection  as  it  possibly  can  be. 

I  have  ridden  through  some  streets  in  the  more  aristo- 
cratic part  of  the  city,  where  were  residences  of  the  wealthy, 
where  whole  blocks,  or  terraces,  as  they  were  called,  had 
an  inclosed  private  roadway  of  forty  or  fifty  feet  in  width 
between  the  house  and  the  street,  separated  from  the  street 
by  a  wall,  entrance  being  had  for  the  private  carriages  of 
owners  of  the  half  dozen  grand  mansions  of  the  block,  onlj' 
at  each  end  of  the  inclosure.  This  inclosed  place,  or  private 
street,  was  admirably  kept,  and  the  portion  not  actually 
occupied  as  a  driveway  beautifully  laid  out  in  flower-beds 
and  shrubs,  which  often  formed  points  for  the  carriages  to 
drive  around. 

From  these  beautiful  evidences  of  wealth,  seen  at  their 
best  in  the  height  of  the  season,  about  the  middle  of  June, 
it  is  but  a  brief  journey  first  to  the  interminable  streets  of 
shops,  thence  down  to  that  packed,  wedged  in,  squeezed  to- 
gether part  of  the  city  below  Temple  Bar,  or  down  Fleet 
Street,  Lombard  Street,  St.  Paul's  Churchj^ard ;  or  down  the 
Poultry,  beyond  the  Mansion  House,  where  the  stranger 
wonders  how  down  here,  and  in  this  very  rush  and  crush, 
so  many  tailors,  furnishing  stores,  and  stationery,  boot  and 
shoe,  hats,  caps,  cutlery,  and  every  species  of  retail  estab- 
lishment, can  possibly  flourish,  jammed  down  among  mer- 
chants, bankers,  bi'okers,  and  all  that  sort  of  people,  and  no 
dwelling-houses  anywhere  to  be  seen. 


74  .  LONDON   RESTAURANTS. 

But  don't  they  utilize  alleys  down  in  the  city  ?  Step  into 
a  passage-Avay  scarce  a  dozen  feet  wide,  and  j^ou  will  find  it 
packed  with  restaurant  entrances.  Some  will  be  little  nar- 
row houses,  with  narrow  staircases  running  from  the  first 
flooi',  which  is  occupied  by  beer  and  bar  counter  up  to  tlie 
two  or  three  upper  rooms,  where  Englishmen  will  pack  in 
almost  like  herrings,  to  eat  their  noonday  lunch  of  meat  and 
beer,  or  sandwich  and  sherry. 

Another  unpretending  entrance  in  an  alley  will  usher  you 
into  a  tremendous  great  restaurant  lighted  by  an  interior 
inclosed  court-yard  or  skylights  above.  You  encounter  the 
clatter  and  noise  of  three  or  four  hundred  customers,  and 
the  rush  of  thirty  or  forty  waiters.  You  pass  by  one  great 
bar-counter,  where  in  full  view  are  specimens  of  the  luxu- 
rious larder.  Burly  barons  of  beef  delicately  mixed  with 
fat  and  lean,  red  and  white,  as  though  prepared  by  an  artist 
purveyor ;  magnificent  mutton  chops,  with  broad,  round 
masses  of  tender  meat,  and  snowy,  sweet  fat  that  will  brown 
so  luxuriously ;  haunches  of  venison  and  great  legs  of 
Southdown  mutton,  that  will  make  an  epicure's  mouth 
water  ;  lobsters  all  alive,  ho  !  great  turbot,  green  turtles, 
sole,  which  none  but  an  English  cook  can  dress  ;  ham  and 
chicken,  kidneys,  pork  chops,  and  an  array  of  various  kinds 
of  cheeses,  pickles,  sauces,  and  appetizers,  mild,  pungent, 
or  fiery,  to  smooth  the  delicate  or  spur  the  blunted  taste. 

There  is  a  notable  absence  of  the  innumerable  French 
dishes,  "  kickshaws,"  and  side-dishes  found  in  an  American 
restaurant.  The  English  restaurant  runs  more  to  substan- 
tials  and  solids,  —  beef,  cabbage,  and  asparagus,  chops  and 
potatoes,  a  bit  of  plum-pudding  perhaps,  or  gooseberry  tart 
after  the  meat,  but  more  frequently  cheese  and  bread, 
washed  down  with  wine  or  beer,  constitute  the  city  man's 
noontide  lunch. 

And  here  let  me  remark  that  the  prodigious  quantity  of 
liquor  drunk  by  the  English  astonishes  the  newly-arrived 
American.     Maybe  the  high  price  at  our  own  restaurants  in 


THE    "  CITY."  75 

a  measure  prevents  it ;  if  so,  pray  Heaven  it  may  continue  ; 
but  liere,  from  poorest  laborer  to  millionnaire,  all  seem  to  take 
something  alcoholic.  In  the  great  restaurant  I  am  speaking 
of,  scarcely  a  man  but  drank  his  pale  ale,  bitter  beer,  claret, 
or  sherry  with  his  meal,  but  rarely  anything  stronger.  Here 
and  there  some  weather-beaten  old  campaigner,  whose  prim, 
square,  solid  cut,  English  costume,  high  stock,  immaculate 
linen,  carefully  trimmed  white  whiskers,  and  shaven  face 
mottled  with  good  living,  showed  him  to  be  a  true  Briton 
believing  in  good  dinners,  called  for  brandy-and-water ;  but 
these  were  the  exception. 

In  other  respects  than  those  above  mentioned,  the  res- 
taurant was  very  much  like  an  American  one,  except  that 
you  paid  your  bill  to  the  waiter,  with  a  few  pence  for  him- 
self, instead  of  paying  at  the  couuter  as  in  America. 

In  these  narrow  passages  down  in  the  City,  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Bank  and  Exchange,  restaurants  swarm,  and  in  them 
may  also  be  found  merchants,  brokers,  great  importers,  and 
often  some  of  the  heaviest  firms  in  the  metropolis,  who, 
being  known  all  over  the  world,  and  commanding  by  their 
great  capital  the  attention  of  mercantile  men,  seem  to  glory 
in  hiding  themselves  away  in  the  most  obscure  nooks,  in 
order,  as  it  were,  to  enjoy  the  satisfaction  of  making  other 
lesser  capitalists  take  as  much  trouble  as  possible  in  getting 
at  them.  Down  here  in  the  City,  as  it  is  called,  it  teems 
with  life  from  ten  to  four,  and  every  street,  alley,  and  pas- 
sage seems  to  be  rammed,  jammed  full  of  people,  to  such 
an  extent  that  you  wonder  how  there  can  be  enough  business 
to  keep  them  all  in  occupation. 

The  poorer  districts  of  London  are  an  unpleasant  picture 
to  contemplate.  Take  any  of  those  of  our  own  great 
American  cities,  and  multiply  by  ten  or  fifty,  and  you  have 
it.  Interminable  streets  of  cheap  shops  below,  and  crowded 
tenements  above ;  swarms  of  wretched,  ragged,  and  almost 
naked  children  of  all  ages  thick  as  flies,  fighting,  playing, 
sleeping,   and   screaming ;    idle,   loafing    men    and    blowzy 


76  WELL-BRED    PEOPLE. 

women  ;  reeking  gutters  and  filthy  odors  ;  the  most  showy 
establishment  the  gin-shop,  that  flourishes  boldly,  brazenly, 
openly,  and  frequently. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

But  how,  asks  a  friend,  do  the  better  class  of  English 
people  live  at  home  ?  To  this  I  would  answer,  so  far  as  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  observing,  very  much  like  well-edu- 
cated, well-bred,  wealthy  American  families  ;  not  at  all  like 
many  American  families  who  have  wealth  and  little  or  none 
of  the  other  mentioned  characteristics.  The  more  really 
aristocratic  and  wealthy  the  Englishman,  the  less,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing,  is  his  pretension  or  attempt  at  vulgar  display. 
You  may  be  as  likely  to  encounter  a  lord,  having  a  rent- 
roll  of  thousands  a  year,  in  a  rough  tweed  suit  and  stout 
walking-shoes,  among  the  Scotch  hills,  or  sitting  very 
quietly  on  top  of  the  Brussels  stage-coach  beside  you,  in  a 
plain  travelling-suit,  as  you  bowl  over  the  road  out  to  the 
field  of  Waterloo.  There  is  no  vulgar  display  of  jewelry 
or  costume  about  him,  no  supercilious  air,  no  scattering  of 
money  or  "  damning  the  expense  ;  "  in  fact,  it  may  be  cor- 
rectly said,  there  is  none  of  this  about  any  genuine  gentle- 
man of  any  nationality.  Men  who  are  sure  of  their  position 
in  society,  and  know  that  it  requires  no  bolstering  before 
the  world,  never  boast  of  ancestry,  riches,  or  superiority 
of  intellect,  and  are  quite  ready  to  believe  that  there  are 
others  in  the  world  not  only  their  equals  but  even  their 
superiors  ;  that  being  settled  in  their  own  minds,  they  feel 
no  necessity  on  their  part  to  argue  the  point. 

There  is  also  in  people  of  this  class  an  absence  of  that 
effort  to  rise  Avhich  is  noticeable  and  evident  in  aspiring 
persons.      I  have  known   a  wealthy  Englishman  to  say  he 


ENGLISH   HOME    LIFE.  77 

could  not  afford  to  pay  ten  pounds  for  an  article  which  an 
American,  whose  entire  property  did  not  equal  the  former's 
annual  rent-roll,  bought  without  question.  The  first  could 
"  not  afford  "  to  squander  money,  to  pay  an  extravagant  or 
exorbitant  price  for  a  needless  luxury,  to  which  the  latter, 
with  his  spendthrift  liberality,  never  gave  a  thought,  more 
than  that  it  pleased  him  for  the  moment,  and  he  had  money 
enough  on  hand  to  buy  it. 

The  dividing  lines  ai'e  distinctly  marked,  and  the  walls 
of  society  are  high  and  strong  in  England  ;  biit,  like  the 
social  barriers  of  the  best  society  in  our  own  country,  hos- 
pitality is  hearty,  if  they  be  creditably  passed. 

I  have  said  that  what  I  saw  of  life  in  an  English  gentle- 
man's family  is  similar  to  that  in  many  American  ones.  It 
may  interest  the  untravelled  reader  to  give  a  description  of 
a  single  experience  of  it  in  detail. 

I  was  once  invited  to  a  gentleman's  country  estate  in 
England,  a  two-hours'  ride  from  London.  I  was  directed 
by  letter  of  invitation  how  to  reach  the  nearest  station  by 
rail,  and  informed  that  I  would  be  met  there  on  arrival.  On 
alighting  from  the  railway  carriage  at  the  end  of  my  jour- 
ney, I  was  at  once  accosted  by  a  polite  footman  in  liverj^ 
who,  touching  his  hat,  asked  if  myself  and  companion  were 
the  expected,  guests.  On  being  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
he  escorted  us  to  a  carriage  in  waiting,  upon  the  box  of 
which  sat  the  liveried  coachman.  The  railway  porters  w^ere 
directed  to  send  our  baggage  —  two  trunks  —  after,  in  the 
cart  in  attendance,  and  the  smart  footman  then,  after  seeing 
us  safely  bestowed,  sprang  to  his  place,  and  tlie  carriage 
rattled  away  over  the  smooth  English  road,  behind  the  well- 
groomed  horses,  at  a  smart  trot.  A  three-mile  drive  brought 
us  to  the  grounds,  which  were  entered,  and  we  were  driven 
up  by  a  winding  avenue,  beneath  the  spreading  branches 
of  tall  trees,  between  which  were  long  reaches  of  view  of  a 
well-kept  park,  with  its  close-cut,  velvet  lawn,  till  we  arrived 
at  the  broad  covered  porch  of  the  entrance  of  the  mansion. 


78  BNGLISH    SERVANTS. 

As  we  halted,  the  footman  sprang  down  and  opened  the 
carriage-door,  and  another  man-servant  stepped  from  tlje 
porch  to  assist  us  to  descend,  which  we  did,  meeting  the 
host  and  his  wife  at  the  door,  welcoming  us  in  a  hearty, 
cordial  manner  at  the  threshold.  A  step  or  two  brought  us 
into  a  large  entrance-hall ;  the  two  servants  took  coats, 
wraps,  hat,  and  umbrellas  from  us,  and  the  host  said  that 
wc  must  wish  first  to  go  to  our  rooms  to  prepare  for  lunch, 
which  would  be  ready  in  half  an  hour.  Two  rooms,  side 
by  side,  one  for  myself  and  the  other  for  my  wife,  each 
commanding  delightful  views  of  the  park,  were  assigned  us. 

A  rosj^-cheeked,  white-aproned  and  white-capped  cham- 
ber-maid attended  madam,  and  a  footman  in  a  quiet  livery, 
myself  The  latter  had  my  portmanteau  brought  to  my 
room,  unstrapped  it,  asked  for  the  key,  unlocked  it,  and 
asked  if  he  should  lay  out  any  change  of  clothing  for  lunch. 
I  designated  a  few  articles,  which  he  selected  as  if  he  had 
been  my  tailor  for  a  lifetime,  and  then  bestowed  my  other 
wearing  apparel  in  wardrobe  and  bureau-drawers,  with  such 
slight  comments  as,  — 

"  I  will  place  the  linen  here." 

"  Coats,  you  will  observe,  please,  are  hung  in  this  press." 

"  Brushes,  combs,  dressing-case,  here." 

He  then  laid  dress-coat,  clean  linen,  and  dinner  costume 
out  for  me,  and  indicating  "hot  water,  sir;  cold;  writing 
materials,"  added,  "  Shall  I  assist  you  to  dress  ?  or  would 
you  please  to  order  anything  ?  " 

"  Nothing  —  thank  you." 

"Bell,  please,  if  I'm  wanted,"  said  he,  indicating  the 
bell-rope  ;  and,  politely  bowing,  retired,  closing  the  door 
noiselessly. 

A  comfortably  furnished  room,  with  blue-covered  furniture, 
large,  com.fortable  bed,  with  richlj^-wrought  counterpane  and 
pillow-cases,  blue  and  lace  curtains,  and  at  foot  of  bed  three 
deep  windows,  two  commanding  views  of  the  beautiful 
grounds,  and  one  of  the  distant  country  ;   and  in  the  niche 


AN   ENGLISH   INTEEIOR.  79 

of  the  latter  a  little  writing-desk,  with  paper,  envelopes, 
paper-knife,  stamps,  bronze  figure  holding  a  little  candle- 
stick, sealing-wax,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  for  correspond- 
ence, either  social  or  official.  Floor  carpeted  with  Brussels 
carpet. 

Instead  of  the  familiar  water-fixtures  of  America,  the 
wash-hand  stand,  with  its  outfit  of  rich  English  ware  and 
supplementary  hot-water  pitcher  ;  the  walls  adorned  by  a 
few  proof  copies  of  valuable  engravings  framed  ;  two  silver 
candlesticks  before  the  glass  upon  the  dressing-table  ;  a  vase 
with  a  fx-esh  bouquet  of  flowers  between  them  ;  and,  in  all 
respects,  the  room  like  that  of  any  wealthy  country  gentle- 
man in  America. 

A  short  time  sufficed  to  remove  the  stains  of  travel,  and 
we  descended  to  meet  our  hospitable  host.  A  servant,  who 
started  out  somewhere  from  the  staircase,  —  they  seemed 
to  start  out  from  everyAvhere,  like  genii  in  a  pantomime,  to 
anticipate  one's  wants,  —  indicated  the  apartment  to  us  in 
which  our  entertainers  were,  a  room  with  wide  windows 
reaching  to  the  floor,  and  opening  out  upon  the  lawn  which 
stretched  its  green  carpet  far  away  before  us  in  gentle 
slopes,  while  at  the  side  ran  gravelled  and  flower-lined  paths, 
and  plots  of  various-colored  blossoms,  the  perfume  of  which 
floated  in  at  the  windows. 

Here,  in  this  drawing-room,  we  were  presented  to  our 
host's  family  of  two  children,  —  boys  home  for  a  few  holi- 
days,—  his  sister-in-law  and  son,  and,  with  cordial  greet- 
ings, were  put  at  ease  and  made  to  feel  at  home  at  once,  till 
the  gentlemanly-looking  butler  quietly  appeared,  and  an- 
nounced that  lunch  was  served.  Giving  his  arm  to  my  wife, 
mine  host  invited  me  to  follow,  which  of  course  I  did,  es- 
corting the  hostess,  and  we  proceeded  to  the  dining-room, 
where  stood  the  butler  by  the  side-board,  looking  so  much, 
in  his  dress-coat,  white  cravat,  and  gray  hair,  and  general 
eminently  respectable  get-up,  like  a  certain  clergyman  I 
knew  at  home,  that  I  could  hardly  bring  myself  to  think 
that  he  was  there  to  turn  out  the  claret  for  us. 


80  LUNCH. 

Lunch  consisted  of  substantial  fare  enough  for  a  dinner, 
if  one  would  make  it  so,  —  chops,  broiled  chicken,  cold 
game  pie,  cold  ham,  and  other  meats,  with  pickles  of  various 
kinds,  stewed  plums,  and  various  "goodies,"  or  perhaps  what 
might  be  termed  English  appetizers,  —  for  the  English  lunch 
is  the  preparer  for  the  later  and  more  substantial  dinner. 
The  table  was  rich  in  damask,  solid  silver,  exquisite  glass, 
and  shining  cutlery  ;  and  the  servants  —  a  footman  and 
maid,  under  the  command  of  his  highness  the  butler,  at  his 
post  bj'  the  side-board  —  seemed  to  understand  every  move 
that  should  be  made  for  the  guests'  convenience,  and  to  ex- 
hibit the  host's  hospitality  to  the  best  advantage. 

Ale,  claret,  and  Rhine  wines  were  served  as  beverages,  a 
glass  of  the  former  seeming  to  be  the  English  preference, 
and  the  serving  of  wine  the  only  actual  table-service  which 
the  grand  butler  performed.  He  even  seemed  a  little 
wounded  in  his  feelings  that  his  master  should  presume 
to  say, — 

"  Rollins,  have  some  Bass  ale  served  ;  perhaps  it  may  be 
liked  better  than  our  home-brewed." 

"Certainly,  sir;  I  have  ordered  some." 

And  so  he  had,  for  the  footman  straightway  made  his  ap- 
pearance with  it.  The  butler  deftly  uncorked  the  bottle  ;  but 
the  footman  brought  it  to  table  and  turned  it  out.  As  soon 
as  the  lunch  was  well  along,  this  eminent  personage,  the 
butler,  withdrew,  leaving  the  service  of  actually  waiting 
upon  table  to  his  subordinates,  direction  being  no  longer 
necessary. 

After  lunch,  we  had  the  rest  of  the  day  before  us  for 
amusement  till  half  past  six,  when  dinner  would  be  served. 
The  gardens  Avero  visited,  with  their  gravelled  walks,  orna- 
mental and  fanciful  ihnver-beds,  and  beautiful  shrubbery ; 
the  hot-houses,  with  their  grapes  and  wall-peaches  and  rarer 
plants  ;  the  kitchen-garden,  with  its  turnips,  radishes,  let- 
tuce, potatoes,  and  onion-beds.  Then  a  little  detour  through 
a  grove,  and  a  rest  on  the  greensward  beneath  the  trees. 


A2T  ENGLISH    STABLE-YARD.  81 

Eeturning-,  we  gentlemen  came  through  the  stable-yard,  paved 
with  stone,  well  kept  and  clean,  with  its  great  stone  water- 
trough  in  the  centre,  clock  up  over  the  door,  and  two  or 
three  of  those  corduroy-clad,  straw-in-mouth  sort  of  young 
fellows,  the  unmistakable  English  stable-boy,  or,  as  we 
should  call  them  in  America,  "hostlers."  The  appearance 
of  the  master,  however,  seemed  to  have  an  effect  like  that 
of  the  colonel  of  a  regiment  on  a  visit  of  barrack  inspection. 
Each  rose  to  his  feet,  caps  came  off,  or  were  touched  re- 
spectfully, when  the  wearers  were  spoken  to. 

In  the  well-kept  stables  we  saw  the  tall  carriage-horses, 
the  ladies'  saddle-horse,  and  the  gentleman's  blooded  bay, 
good  for  a  gallop  across  country,  a  serviceable  horse-of-all- 
work  for  the  brougham,  another  for  anything  needful,  the 
groom's  horse,  and  two  clean-limbed  steeds  that  I  took  to 
be  hunters.  There  were  also  the  stalls  for  working  horses 
that  were  out  upon  the  place,  and  for  a  "rough  little  cob," 
as  the  head  groom  styled  him,  that  the  boys  were  racing 
round  with.  The  carriage-houses  contained  the  stately 
landaulet,  the  more  serviceable  snug  calling-carriage,  a 
brougham,  that  heavy-timbered  vehicle  an  English  dog- 
cart, and  a  wagonette  capable  of  carrying  a  party  of  six  ; 
so  that,  so  far  as  transportation  was  concerned,  our  host 
was  amply  provided.  Returned  to  the  library,  with  its 
book-lined  walls,  deep  windows,  classic  statuettes,  and  few 
costly  oil-paintings,  we  chatted  with  our  kind  entertainers 
on  the,  to  them,  never-tiring  theme  —  America  and  the 
Americans,  till  a  bell  rang  which  was  the  "  preparation-bell  " 
rung  half  an  hour  before  dinner;  and  we  all  separated,  to 
"  dress  for  dinner." 

Dining  at  an  English  gentleman's  house  is  an  important 
ceremony,  and  is  done  in  proper  form.  One  would  no  more 
think  of  presenting  himself  in  a  frock-coat  or  light-colored 
pantaloons  at  the  dinner-table  than  he  would  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves or  with  his  hat  on.  Di:essing  for  dinner  means  full 
dress :  the  ladies  in  evening  costume,  and  the  gentlemen  in 
6 


82  DRESSING   FOR   DINNER. 

costume  de  rigueur  of  black  —  dress-coat,  low-cut  vest,  nar- 
row black  or  white  cravat,  and  spotless  linen. 

The  dinner-hour  varies  from  half  past  five  to  half  past 
eight  p.  M.  Many  of  the  city  men  of  my  acquaintance 
left  their  business  at  about  half  past  four,  reaching  their 
homes  in  the  suburbs  at  about  half  past  five,  in  time  to  dine 
at  six  or  half  past  six,  lunch  having  been  taken  in  the  city 
at  about  half  past  one. 

On  ascending  to  my  room,  I  found  the  valet  at  my  door, 
and  my  wife  the  little  English  maid,  that  had  been  detailed 
for  her  service,  in  like  attendance.  My  guardian  threw  a 
critical  eye  over  the  interior  of  the  apartment  as  I  entered, 
glanced  at  the  stock  of  towels  on  the  rack,  the  two  tall, 
lighted  candles  in  the  silver  candlesticks  before  the  dressing- 
glass,  at  the  three  others  in  a  handsomely  wrought  candela- 
bra upon  a  side-table,  at  my  dress  laid  out  upon  two  chairs 
and  the  bed,  and  desired  to  know  if  I  would  like  "his 
assistance  in  dressing,  or  to  dress  my  hair." 

Being  democratic  enough  to  dress  myself,  I  of  course 
declined,  and  the  well-drilled  servant,  indicating  the  bell- 
rope  as  before,  with  a  desire  "  to  please  ring  if  he  was 
wanted,"  once  more  noiselessly  withdrew. 

We  all  met  in  the  drawing-room  about  ten  minutes  be- 
fore the  dinner-hour.  The  host  begged  the  honor  of  escort- 
ing my  wife,  assigned  me  to  the  hostess,  his  sister-in-law  to 
a  clergyman  who  had  ridden  over  to  dine  with  him,  another 
gentleman  visitor  to  a  lady  acquaintance  of  the  hostess ;  and 
when,  a  few  moments  after,  the  eminently  respectable  butler 
announced,  "  Dinner  is  served,"  we  passed  ceremoniously 
to  the  dining-room. 

The  sideboard  flashed  with  the  family  plate  ;  the  damask 
table-linen,  glittering  cutlery,  and  cut-glass  sparkled  be- 
neath the  chandelier  of  wax  lights  ;  the  bxitler  stood  at  his 
post  by  the  sideboard,  just  at  the  rear  of  the  host's  seat,  in 
solemn  state,  a  maid-servant  behind  madam's  chair,  and  a 
footman  at  either  side  of  the  table.     Immediately  after  we 


AX   ENGLISH   DINNER.  83 

had  seated  ourselves,  in  obedience  to  a  glance  from  the 
host,  the  clergyman,  a  bright,  rattling  fellow  of  twenty- 
eight  or  thirty,  looking  as  though  an  officer's  uniform 
would  have  become  him  better  than  the  straight-cut  clerical 
garments  worn  of  the  Church  of  England,  suddenly  checked 
himself  in  a  galloping  description  of  a  flower  show,  —  or 
I  should  say,  sandwiched  in  between  two  sentences,  sotto 
voce,  "  For  what  we  rabout  to  receive  metha  Lord  mekus 
truly  thankful ;  "  closing  his  eyes  for  a  second  only,  and 
leaping  back  to  worldliness  with  a  speed  that  fairly  took 
mj^  breath  away,  and  somewhat  shocked  my  Puritan  ideas 
of  the  solemnity  due  to  an  appeal  to  the  Throne  of  Grace. 

However,  a  blessing  having  been  asked,  dinner  com- 
menced by  serving  the  soup,  which  was  of  the  first  course,  as 
we  observed  on  a  menu,  or  little  ornamental  bill  of  fare,  before 
each  plate,  —  a  convenient  thing,  at  an  English  dinner,  for 
regulating  one's  appetite,  and  the  preventing  of  exhausting 
or  throwing  it  away  upon  the  wrong  course.  Fish  followed 
the  soup,  and  then  came  light  wines,  ordered  by  the  butler, 
but  served  by  the  footmen.  After  the  fish  came  boiled 
mutton,  with  delicious  jelly  and  accompanying  vegetables. 
Then  salads  and  side-dishes.  Claret  wine  was  then  served. 
Next  beef  and  other  roast  meats  ;  and  now  that  the  dinner 
was  fairly  inaugurated,  the  great  butler  himself  served  port 
and  sherry,  and  assisted  the  ladies  gracefully  to  champagne, 
filling  to  the  brim  without  spilling  a  drop.  Following  the 
meats  came  a  course  of  game,  with  the  usual  accompani- 
ments of  jellies  and  sauces.  All  this  time  a  lively  conver- 
sation was  kept  up,  commenced  at  first  and  continued  with 
your  next  neighbor  till  after  the  remove  of  fish,  when  either 
the  wine  or  the  effect  of  the  generous  dinner  loosened  the 
tongues  of  all  in  general, — hearty  conversation  across, 
around,   and  about  the  table. 

Under  the  direction  of  the  butler  the  removes  were  made 
with  the  regularity  of  machinery,  and  so  timed  that  no 
hurry  was  noticeable,  no  noise  or  clatter  of  dishes  heard. 


84  THE    DESSERT. 

and  at  the  finish  of  each  course  it  seemed  as  though,  just 
when  you  ceased,  the  next  was  being  placed  upon  the 
board.  The  butler  understood  every  expression  of  his 
master's  and  mistress's  countenance  ;  a  quiver  of  the  eye- 
lid, and  he  dispatched  his  deputy  to  fill  a  half-emptied 
glass.  The  conversation  turned  on  Madeira  wine,  and  be- 
fore the  first  sentence  was  half  finished,  I  observed  the 
butler  dispatch  a  servant,  who  returned  with  a  bottle  in  a 
twinkling  ;  so  that  when  his  master  said,  "  Rollins,  I  forgot 
to  order  some  Madeira ;  perhaps  our  friends  may  like  it," 
that  worthy  immediately  responded,  "We  have  some  here;" 
and  the  squeak  of  the  corkscrew  mingled  with  his  unctuous 
and  respectful  tones.  A  glance  from  the  lady,  his  mistress, 
and  this  master  of  ceremonies  proffered  a  choice  bit,  or  had 
a  change  of  plates,  or  proffer  of 'side  dishes,  or  vegetables, 
or  service  made  with  discernment  that  was  wonderful.  In 
fact,  as  manager  of  the  dinner  he  was  pcM'fection. 

After  the  different  courses  —  which  ended  with  tarts  and 
a  species  of  frozen  pudding  —  had  been  served,  then  came 
the  dessert  of  rich  grapes,  pineapples,  hot-house  peaches, 
and  other  fruits.  These  were  in  turn  followed  by  figs,  rai- 
sins, dried  fruits,  and  nuts.  With  the  fruits  came  in  the 
host's  boys,  little  fellows  of  eleven  and  thirteen.  They 
had  each  a  wine-glass  of  claret  filled  for  them,  and  enjoyed 
themselves  over  a  bunch  of  grapes,  and  such  other  fruit  as 
they  desired.  They  only  spoke  when  spoken  to,  and  left 
when  the  ladies  rose  to  leave  the  gentlemen  at  their  wine, 
as  is  the  English  custom.  This  occurred  after  the  dried 
fruits,  &c.,  had  been  discussed,  when  the  hostess  set  the 
example  by  rising  from  her  seat.  She  led  the  way  to  the 
door,  which  was  opened  by  the  butler,  and  was  followed  by 
the  other  ladies,  the  gentlemen  standing  as  they  passed  out, 
and  resuming  their  seats  as  the  door  closed  behind  them. 
The  table,  meantime,  had  been  cleared  of  the  remains  of  the 
dessert,  a  few  fresh  grapes,  dishes  of  nuts,  dry  rusk  and 
biscuit,  alone  remaining.     The  servants,  with  the  exception 


"we  will  join  the  ladies."  85 

of  the  butler,  had  retired.  That  worthy  then  personally 
placed  fresh  glasses  where  wanted,  and  set  the  decanters 
and  bottles  of  wine  before  his  master,  then  placed  a  hand- 
bell at  his  elbow,  and  in  obedience  to  a  nod  softly  vanished 
through  a  door. 

There  was  at  this  dinner  vastly  more  display  than  con- 
sumption of  wine,  as  both  host  and  guests  were  alike  some- 
what abstemious.  I  give,  however,  a  faithful  record  of 
going  through  the  form  and  fashion  of  an  English  dinner, 
that  an  idea  may  be  had  to  what  an  extent  the  use  of  wines 
and  liquors  prevails  in  English  families.  After  the  ladies 
had  retired,  we  sat  and  pleasantly  chatted,  the  clergyman 
telling  the  merriest  story  of  any  of  the  party.  Cigars  were 
not  introduced.  "  We'll  go  up  into  the  billiard-room  and 
smoke,  if  you  like,"  said  the  host;  but  we  declined  the 
invitation,  and  continued  our  conversation. 

At  last  our  host  turned  out  a  glass  of  sherry,  and  drank 
from  it,  and  passed  the  decanter  to  his  right-hand  neighbor, 
and  thought,  after  it  had  gone  round,  "We  had  better  join 
the  ladies  "  I  then  ascertained  that  the  English  fashion — : 
so  mine  host  said,  and  said  he  knew  not  why  it  was  so  — 
was  that  the  last  glass  of  wine  before  leaving  the  table  was 
one  of  sherry. 

We  found  the  ladies  in  the  drawing-room,  and  immedi- 
ately on  our  arrival  coffee  was  brought  in  by  a  servant. 
After  this  we  had  music  from  the  ladies,  an  inspection  of  a 
portfolio  of  rare  engravings,  and  a  collection  of  photo- 
graphs of  celebrated  places  on  the  continent,  and  conversa- 
tion, the  clergyman  taking  his  leave  about  half  past  nine. 
At  ten  p.  M.,  precisely,  the  butler  came  in  and  took  a  can- 
delabra from  one  of  the  tables,  and  my  host,  turning  to  me, 
observed,  "It  is  always  our  custom  to  have  family  praj^er 
at  morning  and  night.  We  shall  be  pleased  to  have  you 
join  us,  if  so  inclined."  Of  course  we  were,  and  proceed- 
ing to  the  dining-hall,  found  the  house-servants  assembled 
there,  who,  after  we  were  seated,  also  sat  down. 


86  FINALE    OF    THE   FEAST. 

The  master  of  the  house  then  read  a  chapter  from  the 
Bible,  after  which  a  prayer  from  the  prayer-book,  all  kneel- 
ing during  the  latter.  At  the  close,  we  returned  to  our 
drawing-room,  and  the  servants  retired.  At  half  past  ten 
we  were  summoned,  ladies  and  all,  to  a  side-room  near  the 
diniug-hall,  where  upon  a  round  table  were  laid  out  various 
compounds,  which  in  England  are  thought  to  compose  a 
good  "nightcap,"  but  which  temperate  people  look  upon  as 
incentives  to  headaches,  if  not  something  worse. 

Boiling  water  in  a  silver  kettle  over  a  spirit  lamp  was  in 
readiness,  to  make  negus  from  rare  old  brandy,  or  punch 
from  transparent,  mountain-dew  whiskey,  or  hot  rum  punch 
from  the  fat-bellied  bottles  of  red  Jamaica,  or  gin  toddies 
from  the  high-shouldered  Dutch  bottles  of  tliat  compound, 
had  we  had  taste  or  stomach  for  them.  We  were  given  to 
understand  that  we  were  not  expected  to  retire  to  bed  be- 
cause of  this  Jinale  to  the  feast,  but  that  it  was  always  at 
this  hour  this  course  was  here  served,  and  each  followed 
out  his  taste  and  inclination  of  stepping  in  here  at  this 
hour,  or  before  retiring,  to  suit  their  convenience. 

On  retiring,  maid  and  man-servant  were  in  attendance  at 
our  rooms  as  before,  and  we  were  informed  that  nine  o'clock 
was  the  hour  for  family  prayer  and  breakfast,  but  that  the 
latter  was  served  to  guests  in  the  house  any  time  after  that 
hour  till  twelve.  We  chose,  however,  to  be  ready  at  the 
first-mentioned  hour  next  morning,  when,  as  we  entered  the 
breakfast-room,  we  found  the  servants  standing  in  line, 
awaiting  us.  Prayer  was  read,  after  which  breakfast  was 
served.  By  the  side  of  each  one's  plate  were  any  letters 
and  papers  that  had  come  down  for  them  by  the  early  mail 
from  London,  and  it  was  quite  in  order  to  open  and  read 
any  letters  while  breakfast  was  being  brought  in,  that  meal 
being  one  at  which  no  ceremony  is  required,  our  host  ap- 
pearing in  a  velvet  shooting-jacket,  and  madam  in  a  morn- 
ing wrapper  and  plain  collar.  Everything  at  this  meal 
was  free  and  easy  as  possible,  all  ceremony  dispensed  with, 


AN   AMUSING   BLUNDER.  87 

a  footman  and  maid  performing  the  service,  and  those  at 
the  table  reading  aloud  an  occasional  extract  from  the  Times 
as  they  sipped  their  coffee,  giving  a  bit  of  news  from  a 
letter,  or  making  plans  for  amusement  and  employment 
during  the  day. 

An  English  breakfast  is  a  very  diflFerent  affair  from  the 
solid,  bountiful  repast  of  that  name  in  America.  The 
substantial  sirloin  or  tenderloin  steak  you  seldom  see  at 
an  English  breakfast-table ;  the  nearest  approach  to  it  is 
"  chops,"  and  those  are  considered  hearty  for  breakfast. 
Those  dyspepsia-promoters,  the  American  hot  biscuit,  are 
also  missing.  Neither  are  there  oysters,  or  fried  potatoes, 
or  buckwheat  cakes,  and  rarely  a  broiled  chicken.  Indeed, 
the  art  of  chicken-cooking  at  all  in  England  is  inferior  to 
that  practised  at  our  American  first-class  hotels.  Neither 
is  there  hot  brown  bread,  or  Indian  cake,  or  flapjacks. 

Tomatoes,  which  are  dressed  and  eaten  in  so  many  forms 
in  America,  and  the  various  styles  of  serving  oysters,  seem 
to  be  but  little  known  in  England.  A  friend  of  mine, 
noticing  that  there  were  tomatoes  exposed  for  sale  at  a 
green-grocer's,  in  a  country  town  in  England,  near  the  hotel 
at  which  he  was  staying,  ordered  the  landlord  to  provide 
some  for  his  dinner,  and,  in  answer  to  the  question  as  to 
how  he  would  have  them  served,  replied,  raw.  Imagine 
his  surprise  at  finding,  when  the  succulent  fruit  was  served, 
that  the  cook  had  scooped  out  the  entire  inside  of  it, 
leaving  but  a   thin   rind   to   be   eaten! 

A  still  more  amusing  story  is  told,  of  which  it  is  averred 
that  no  less  an  important  personage  than  the  late  George 
Peabody,  the  celebrated  American  banker,  was  the  hero. 
It  appears  that  Mr.  Peabody  had  invited  three  English- 
men to  meet  two  Americans  at  dinner,  and  on  this  occasion, 
having  received  as  a  gift  ten  ears  of  green  corn,  determined 
to  renew  the  recollections  of  his  youth,  astonish  his  Eng- 
lish and  please  his  American  guests  by  having  it  served  up 
in  the  well-known  American  style. 


00  AN   ENGLISH   BREAKFAST. 

Accordingly,  at  a  proper  time,  plates  of  butter  and  salt 
were  placed  before  each  guest,  and  the  banker,  with  some- 
thing of  an  air  of  mystery,  announced  that  he  was  now 
about  to  treat  his  guests  to  a  well-known  and  delicious 
American  dish  of  food,  cooked  in  the  American  manner.  It 
would  be  no  novelty  to  his  American  guests,  but  the  Eng- 
lishmen must  watch  how  it  was  disposed  of  by  them,  and 
follow  their  example  and  manner  of  disposing  of  it.  Then, 
at  a  signal,  enter  a  stately  butler  bearing  a  large  covered 
dish,  which  he  deposited  solemnlj^  before  Mr.  Peabody.  In 
a  moment  more,  in  obedience  to  the  banker's  nod,  he  whisked 
off  the  cover,  and  there,  before  the  astonished  guests,  was 
displayed  a  pile  of  ten  boiled  corn  cobs  ! 

The  banker  gazed  for  an  instant  in  mute  horror  and  dis- 
may, and  then  found  voice  to  demand  an  explanation,  which 
was  finally  reached  when  the  cook  was  summoned,  —  a  fel- 
low who  had  never  before  seen  an  ear  of  Indian  corn  in  his 
life,  —  who  replied  that  he  had  followed  his  master's  direc- 
tions to  "strip  off  all  the  outside  before  boiling,"  which  he 
had  done  most  faithfully,  not  only  husks,  as  was  intended, 
but  kernels  also,  so  that  the  banker  had  only  what  is  in 
America  the  mute  evidence  of  the  feast  to  indicate  what 
were  his  good  intentions  to  his  guests. 

The  majority  of  heavy  English  diners  make  a  very  light 
breakfast ;  not  but  that  my  host  had  a  profusion,  but  it  was 
of  the  English  style  of  breakfast :  rashei's  of  English  bacon 
done  to  a  turn  ;  eggs  dropped,  fried,  or  boiled,  the  boiler 
placed  before  you  on  table,  with  minute-glass  attached  to 
regulate  cooking  to  your  taste,  as  no  two  persons  like  an 
egg  boiled  in  the  same  manner  ;  muffins,  fresh,  or  split 
and  toasted ;  broiled  fish ;  a  species  of  toasted  or  roasted 
herring ;  Finian  haddock ;  cold  meats,  tongue,  and  pickled 
tongues,  two  kinds  of  cold  meats,  and  cold  ganie  pies, 
at  the  sideboard,  from  which  the  servants  helped  you,  or 
it  was  in  order  to  rise  and  help  yourself.  Bread  sweet, 
white,  and  close-grained,  at  least  one  day  old  ;  golden  but- 


ENJOYMENT    OF    THE    DAT.  89 

ter,  and  delicious  honey  to  cat  with  it ;  tea  or  coffee  from 
the  silver  service,  at  which  madam  presided,  or  a  mug  of 
beer  from  a  silver  tankard,  if  you  preferred  it. 

Rising-  from  the  breakfast-table,  we  proceed  to  one  of  the 
drawing-rooms,  with  its  open  windows  letting  in  the  flower- 
perfumed  breeze  from  the  garden  and  lawn,  and  discuss  how 
to  amuse  ourselves  for  the  forenoon.  Shall  it  be  horseback- 
riding,  croquet  on  the  lawn,  a  jaunt  over  to  the  fish-pond 
and  a  row  upon  the  water,  or  a  ride  in  the  carriage  tlirough 
the  leafy  lanes  and  the  pleasant  country  ?  AVe  chose  the 
last ;  and  carriages  and  horses  were  ordered,  which  soon 
appeared  with  their  liveried  drivers,  and  away  we  bowl  over 
the  smooth  English  road,  my  host's  eldest  boy  scampering 
after  or  riding  before  us  on  his  sturdy  little  pony. 

Returned  from  the  drive,  some  went  to  their  rooms  to 
write  letters,  the  host  to  the  library  to  see  a  neighbor  who 
had  called  on  some  business  matter  relating  to  adjoining 
property,  and  others  to  stroll  in  the  garden  or  beneath  the 
great  trees  of  the  park,  as  inclination  called.  Lunch  was  a 
repetition  of  that  of  the  day  previous  ;  but  at  dinner  we  had 
a  larger  company — three  or  four  friends  of  the  host,  who 
had  been  invited  to  meet  us,  of  which  we  were  apprised  at 
lunch,  and  also  told  something  about  them,  their  history  or 
position,  so  that  upon  introduction  in  the  drawing-room 
we  were  not  compelled,  as  is  sometimes  the  case  on  such 
occasions,  to  draw  out  from  the  person  himself  who  he  is, 
his  profession  or  occupation,  lest  some  awkward  mistake 
may  be  made  in  expression  or  conversation. 

When  the  carriages  of  the  visitors  were  announced,  at 
about  ten  in  the  evening,  we,  as  guests,  had  received  a 
kind  invitation  to  spend  "  a  few  weeks,  or  at  least  a  week," 
at  the  estates  of  each  of  our  newly-made  friends,  wdiich, 
however,  time  would  not  allow.  The  invitation,  however, 
was  none  the  less  genuine  and  hearty,  and,  it  was  even  in- 
sisted upon  by  the  givers,  should  hold  till  we  next  visited 
Old  England. 


90  TAKING   LEAVE. 

When  the  time  came  for  leaving  this  elegant  and  hospi- 
table home,  the  servants  insisted  upon  packing,  and  did 
pack,  our  luggage,  and  more  neatly  than  we  could  have 
done  it ;  and  when,  informed  that  the  cai-riage  would  be  at 
the  door  in  ten  minutes,  we  went  to  our  rooms,  there  were 
footman  and  maid  with  articles  of  wardrobe  to  be  worn  for 
the  journey ;  and  our  trunks  had  been  sent  forward  in  a 
spring-cart.  Of  course  footman  and  maid  pocket  the  half 
guinea  each,  with  bow  and  smile,  that  was  slipped  into  their 
hands ;  and  the  eminent  butler,  who  accidentally  met  me  on 
the  way  down,  and  whose  palm  was  similarly  crossed,  —  for 
I  had  learned  enough  of  English  custom  for  that,  —  wished 
us  a  pleasant  journey. 

The  footman  held  open  the  door  of  the  landaulet,  we 
stepped  in,  having  first  taken  leave  of  our  kind  entertain- 
ers, when  a  servant  appeared  with  salver  and  glasses  for 
"  a  stirrup  cup  at  parting,"  and  then  we  rattled  down  the 
winding  avenue,  and  away  for  the  railway  station.  Arrived 
there,  wraps,  hand-luggage,  &c.,  were  carried  to  the  wait- 
ing-room by  the  footman,  our  trunk  pointed  out,  where  it 
had  been  placed  on  arrival,  tickets  procured  by  the  same 
active  servitor,  who  gratefully  received  five  shillings  for 
himself  and  five  for  the  coachman,  and,  touching  his  hat, 
wished  us  a  pleasant  ride  to  London,  leaped  to  his  place  on 
the  box,  and  was  bowled  away  with  the  driver. 

I  liave  gone  through  somewhat  in  detail  this  account  of  a 
three-days'  visit  to  the  home  of  an  English  gentleman,  in 
answer  to  numerous  inquiries  as  to  how  the  English  gentle- 
men live  at  home,  and  the  assertion  that  few  except  the 
novel-writer  attempt  any  description,  and  that  such  descrip- 
tion must  necessarily  be  like  the  novel  —  not  to  be  depended 
on  as  a  truthful  account. 

It  will  be  seen  that,  with  some  trifling  diflerences,  the 
life  at  an  English  gentleman's  country-seat  is  very  similar  to 
that  of  our  own  men  of  wealth.  To  be  sure,  the  American 
gentleman,  as  a  general  thing,  would  not  permit  his  guests 


ENGLISH    DOMESTIC    SERVICE.  91 

to  fee  his  servants,  and  indeed  many  English  gentlemen  will 
not  permit  it.  \Yhether  my  host  was  one  of  the  latter  class 
I  never  ascertained  ;  but,  it  being  a  first  experience,  I  de- 
termined that  his  servants  should  not  have  occasion  to  give 
Americans  a  bad  name,  and  hence  took  the  safe  side.  Feeing 
is  so  universal  in  England,  and  it  seems  to  be  so  expected 
by  any  official  who  does  you  tlie  smallest  service,  that  your 
hand  almost  gets  the  habit  of  seeking  your  pocket  whenever 
you  ask  a  question  that  requires  an  answer  conveying  infor- 
mation. 

The  consumption  of  wines  and  liquors,  as  is  well  known, 
is  enormous  in  England,  and  wine  is  used  freely  and  liber- 
ally at  the  dinner-table,  a  well-stocked  cellar  being  one  of 
the  first  requisites  of  a  well-ordered  establishment. 

One  thing  that  charms  American  visitors,  especially  ladies 
from  the  northern  states,  who  have  been  tormented  almost 
out  of  their  senses  by  the  Irish  peasants  who  pretend  to 
serve  them  as  servants  at  home,  is  the  admirable  service  in 
these  English  families.  All  appears  to  move  without  a 
jar;  the  servants,  to  use  an  American  expression,  "run  the 
house,"  and  strive  to  anticipate  a  want  and  execute  a  wish 
before  an  order  is  given.  Then,  again,  each  one  seems  to 
know  his  position  and  to  understand  its  duties  thoroughly, 
and  to  take  a  pride  in  executing  them  properly.  It  seemed, 
while  we  were  making  the  three-days'  visit  above  described, 
that  invisible  servants  watched  us  from  behind  concealed 
panels,  and  sprang  out  at  the  slightest  possible  provocation. 

Did  we  leave  our  rooms  but  for  fifteen  minutes,  everything 
misplaced  was  put  in  order  again,  a  soiled  towel  replaced 
b}"-  a  fresh  one,  or  a  garment  dropped  to  the  floor  taken  up, 
and  everything  set  to  rights. 

It  should  of  course  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  servants 
in  a  family  like  this  belong  to  it,  as  it  were,  and  may  be 
said  to  be  part  of  the  establishment,  filling,  perhaps,  posi- 
tions once  occupied  by  their  fathei's  or  mothers,  or  other 
relatives,  who  may  have  served  the  father  and  mother  of 


92  CATCHING    A    TRATN. 

the  present  proprietor,  and  were,  moreover,  of  the  same 
nationality  and  religion  as  their  employers.  Then,  compar- 
atively few  Americans  are  sufficiently  wealthy,  and  others 
are  too  democratic,  to  support  such  a  retinue  of  menials 
about  them  ;  or,  as  an  American  lady  remarked,  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  get,  for  any  amount  of  money,  eight  or  ten, 
or  even  four,  servants  in  America  that  will  live  in  any  family 
a  year  iu  peace  together. 


CHAPTER    V. 

We  often  read  in  English  stories  or  novels  that  one  of  the 
characters  had  "just  time  to  catch  the  express  train"  for 
some  place.  This  "  catching  a  train,"  it  should  be  under- 
stood by  the  American  reader,  is  a  very  different  affair  from 
the  catching  of  it  in  his  own  country,  for  it  signifies  that 
the  individual  had  sufficient  time  to  reach  and  enter  the 
railway  carriage  just  before  the  guard  had  closed  the  doors 
and  given  the  signal  to  start.  After  that  had  been  done, 
no  matter  who  arrived,  he  was  too  late. 

In  America,  however,  if  by  dint  of  a  smart  run  the  be- 
lated passenger  is  enabled  to  reach  the  hand-rail  of  the  last 
car  of  the  rapidly  receding  train,  as  it  is  leaving  the  station, 
and  is  hauled  on  board  minus  his  hat  or  a  part  of  his  coat, 
perhaps  helped  by  railway  baggage-masters  to  "  catch  the 
train,"  he  is  congratulated  by  the  conductor  on  his  skill  in 
"jest  savin'  it,"  instead  of  being  fined  and  reprimanded  for 
thus  risking  his  life.  Indeed,  the  average  American  so 
thoroughly  believes  in  taking  the  responsibility,  that  he 
resents  the  erection  of  gates,  now  being  generally  introduced 
iu  our  great  cities,  separating  the  track  from  the  withdraw- 
ing or  waiting  rooms,  at  railroad  stations,  or  any  interfer- 


AGAINST   EEGULATIONS.  93 

ence  with  his  getting  on  or  oflF  a  train  in  motion,  with  the 
idea,  perhaps,  that  no  person  in  this  land  of  liberty  has  any 
right  to  restrain  him  even  from  putting  his  life  in  jeopardy 
if  he  himself  elects  to  do  so. 

The  laws  against  getting  on  or  oflF  moving  railway  trains 
in  England  are  very  strict,  and  also  in  guarding  the  tracks 
at  the  stations  and  their  vicinity,  and  are  not  to  be  infringed 
upon  or  broken  with  impunity,  as  an  American  friend  of  the 
author  recently  found  to  his  sorrow. 

He  chanced  to  be  on  a  train  going  to  London,  and  had 
written  to  have  his  luggage  from  a  certain  point  sent  to 
meet  him,  to  be  put  on  board  the  train  at  an  intermediate 
station.  Arrived  at  the  latter  place,  where  the  train  stopped 
a  few  moments,  he  leaped  from  the  railway  carriage,  leaving 
his  wife  and  friends,  while  he  sought  for  his  luggage  to 
place  on  the  train  ;  but  in  vain.  Meanwhile  the  time  for 
starting  arrived,  yet  still  he  tarried,  thinking  to  jump  on  at 
the  last  moment,  American  fashion,  and  started  to  do  so, 
but  was  restrained  by  an  official. 

"  But  I  must  go  on  this  train  ;  my  wife  's  aboard,"  said 
the  anxious  American. 

"Can't  help  it,  sir;  train's  in  motion;  against  regulations." 

"  But  you  are  going,"  said  the  traveller,  as  he  marked 
the  long  train  gradually  moving,  car  after  car,  past  them, 
and  the  oflScial  preparing  to  take  his  place. 

"Certainly;  I'm  the  guard  —  last  man  on.  I  take  the 
van.     Stand  back  !  " 

So  saying,  the  guard,  or,  as  we  call  him,  the  conductor, 
pushed  back  the  American  and  leaped  to  his  place  on  the 
step  of  the  guard's  van,  or  last  carriage  in  the  train. 

Quick  as  he  was,  the  American  was  equal  to  him,  for  with 
two  or  three  bounds,  despite  the  cries  and  rush  of  the  por- 
ters, he  leaped  after  the  guard,  clung  to  him  on  the  step  of 
the  carriage,  and  both  were  whirled  out  of  the  station  in 
that  manner,  after  which  they  tumbled  into  the  compartment 
of  the  guard  together.     That  official  was  white  with  rage^ 


94  THE  '  POLICEMAN    IN    PLAIN    CLOTHES.' 

"  I  told  3'ou  that  you  could  not  get  upon  the  train  when 
it  was  iu  motion." 

"  Ah  !   but  3^ou  see  I  did."  t 

"  Do  you  know  that  we  both  narrowly  missed  being- 
hit  by  that  iron  crane  as  the  train  went  out  of  the  sta- 
tion?" 

"  A  miss,  my  good  fellow,  is  as  good  as  a  mile." 

"  And  jow  have  broken  the  regulations,  and  made  me 
and  yourself  liable  to  prosecution." 

"  0,  fudge  !  The  company  won't  take  the  trouble  to 
prosecute,  I  guess,"  said  the  Yankee.  But  this  time  his 
national  guess  was  incorrect. 

The  train  was  an  express,  and  he  rode  in  the  guard's  van 
more  than  fifty  miles  before  another  stop  enabled  him  to 
rejoin  his  party  in  the  other  carriage  and  continue  his  jour- 
ney to  London,  during  which  the  matter  passed  from  his 
mind. 

Arrived  at  the  station  in  London,  our  American  secured 
a  four-wheeler,  selected  his  luggage,  had  it  placed  on  the 
roof  of  the  vehicle,  bestowed  wife  and  party  inside,  and 
was  about  following,  when  he  was  tapped  oil  the  shoulder 
by  a  quiet,  plainly-dressed  individual,  who  remarked,  — 

"  Sorry  to  detain  you,  really  ;  very  unpleasant  duty  ;  but 
you  are  wanted  on  charge  of  assaulting  the  guard  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty  as  the  train  left  Leamington." 

Here  the  official  displayed  a  paper  and  his  credentials, 
leaving  no  doubt  he  was  one  of  those  "policemen  in  plain 
clothes  "  whom  Dickens  and  the  English  story-tellers  write 
about. 

Here  was  a  dilemma.  A  stranger  in  London,  after  dark, 
arrested !  What  should  he  do  ?  He  at  once  explained. 
He  was  an  American  tourist ;  was  not  aware  of  the  law. 
His  wife  and  he  both  strangers.  "  Hadn't  even  been  to  their 
hotel  yet.      Couldn't  it  be  arranged  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"  0,  certainly,  if  he  would  kindly  give  his  card,"  the 
ofiScial  would  call  at  his  hotel  at  eleven  to-morrow. 


UNDEE    SURVEILLAJfCE.  95 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  American  whipped  out  his 
card-case,  handed  over  the  bit  of  pasteboard  to  the  officer, 
who  glanced  at  it,  nodded  to  the  cab-driver,  who  closed  the 
door  of  the  vehicle,  and  the  party  were  soon  rattling  over 
the  London  pavements.  As  they  whirled  along,  the  first 
view  of  London  by  gaslight  was  forgotten  in  the  explana- 
tion of  the  affair  by  the  American  to  his  wife.  "  But  it  is 
all  over  now,  I  guess,"  said  he,  "  for,  although  I  gave  the 
fellow  my  name,  I  didn't  give  him  my  address,  and  he  won't 
know  where  to  come  to-morrow,  after  all." 

Here  again  was  a  mistaken  guess,  for  a  second  thought 
might  have  informed  him  that  the  number  of  every  cab  ad- 
mitted in  the  railway  station  was  known ;  that  he  had  given 
his  direction  to  the  driver  before  being  accosted  by  the 
officer,  and  thereby  the  latter  had  obtained  his  address  ;  and 
that,  if  the  case  had  been  of  sufficient  importance,  the  cab 
could  easily  have  been  followed  by  another,  even  if  the 
driver  had  not  been  instructed  to  notify  the  officer  where  he 
left  his  fare. 

However,  our  tourist,  feeling  somewhat  uneasy,  related 
the  affair  to  an  English  friend,  whom  he  met  on  arrival  at 
the  hotel,  who  did  not  relieve  his  anxiety  by  looking  grave, 
shaking  his  head,  and  remarking  they  had  best  both  go  to 
the  railway  manager's  office  next  morning.  This  they  did, 
and,  through  the  intervention  of  a  personal  friend  of  one  of 
the  directors,  after  apologies  and  explanations,  the  American 
departed,  glad  to  have  got  rid,  as  he  supposed,  of  this  un- 
pleasantness. 

About  five  days  after,  having  meantime  changed  his  hotel, 
our  American  citizen  had  business  down  in  the  City,  after 
transacting  which  he  had  agreed  to  meet  his  wife  and  a 
friend  at  Westminster  Hall,  to  view  that  noted  building. 
Standing  near  the  entrance,  and  awaiting  her  coming,  he 
was  astonished  to  observe  her  to  be  accompanied  by  two 
gentlemen  instead  of  one.  The  second  was  introduced  as 
a  person  who  had  called  at  the  hotel  to  see  the  American  on 


96  AN   UNCOMFOKTABLE    POSITION. 

private  business.  He  was  a  respectable-looking  individual 
of  about  fifty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  pepper-and-salt  suit, 
and,  stepping  aside,  presented  to  the  tourist  his  card,  which 
bore  the  inscription,  "Mr.  John  Lund,  Chief  of  Police, 
Leamington." 

He  was  very  polite  ;  was  very  sorry  he  had  a  disagree- 
able duty  to  perform  ;  and  he  drew  out  a  formidable-looking 
document,  with  a  prodigious  formula  of  English  expression, 
and  several  staring  seals,  which  cited  the  offence  our  trav- 
eller had  committed  upon  one  of  her  Majesty's  servants,  and 
summoned  the  offender  to  appear  on  the  following  Wednes- 
day (it  was  then  Saturday)  at  "the  aforesaid"  Leamington. 

"I  was  coming  up  to  London  myself,"  said  the  oflScial, 
apologetically,  "  and  thought  I  would  serve  this,  to  make 
it  as  comfortable  as  possible." 

It  was  useless  for  the  American  to  state  that  the  matter 
had  all  been  settled  by  the  railway  manager ;  of  this  the 
polite  chief  of  police  knew  nothing.  The  first  arrest  was 
probably  at  the  instance  of  the  officials  of  the  railway  com- 
pany in  London  ;  but  this  was  by  the  police  authorities  of 
Leamington,  of  which  he  was  chief.  The  oSicial  would  not 
be  satisfied  except  by  a  visit  of  the  American  and  responsi- 
ble friend  again  to  the  manager's  office  at  the  London  sta- 
tion, where  it  was  arranged  that  the  traveller  would  appear 
and  answer  on  the  following  week,  if  the  affair  was  not 
settled  before  ;  and  the  polite  chief  of  the  Leamington  police 
took  his  departure. 

However,  the  visit  to  Westminster  Hall  was  given  up 
for  that  day,  and  the  American  began  to  wish  he  never  had 
jumped  upon  that  railroad  train.  Supposing  all  right  now, 
however,  he  forgot  all  about  it  again,  until  it  was  unpleas- 
antly brought  to  mind  on  the  following  Sunday  by  a  note 
sent  him  by  private  hand,  from  his  friend,  to  a  place  where 
he  was  spending  the  day. 

This  note  informed  him  that  the  affair  had  quite  a  serious 
look  ;  that  the  general  managers  at  Leamington  had  been 


A   FIVE    POUND    PENALTY.  97 

mulcted  for  damages  for  an  accident  that  occurred  at  that 
point  a  few  months  since  ;  and  that  his  jumping  upon  the 
train  had  been  witnessed  by  two  of  the  principal  directors, 
as  well  as  by  one  of  the  local  police,  and  it  was  determined 
to  punish  any  such  criminal  recklessness,  hence  the  summons, 
&c.  This  the  London  railway  ofiBcial  had  by  his  personal 
influence  succeeded  in  postponing  for  a  few  days,  but  an  ex- 
pense of  three  pounds  ten  shillings  had  been  incurred,  and 
perhaps  it  would  be  best  to  arrange  that  before  Mr.  John 
Lund  or  another  official  came  up  to  London  again. 

Our  American  was  now  getting  nervous  and  scared.  He 
at  once  saw  his  English  friend  in  Loudon,  and  proceeded  to 
"  arrange  "  the  matter  as  was  suggested.  Then,  returning 
to  his  hotel,  he  ordered  a  cab  to  take  himself  and  luggage  to 
a  railway  station,  bidding  the  landlord  good-by  as  if  going  to 
Scotland.  After  being  landed  at  the  railway  station,  and 
after  having  discharged  the  cabman,  he  took  another  cab, 
and  drove  to  a  new  hotel,  in  the  hope  that  by  this  means 
Mr.  John  Lund  might  be  dodged  until  he  departed  for  Paris, 
which  seems  to  have  been  successfully  done  ;  but  the  reason 
therefor  was  explained  in  the  following  letter  sent  to  him  by 
his  friend,  who  had  arranged  matters,  and  who  received  it 
from  the  railway  authorities. 

"  I  think  I  have  arranged  matters  for  the  withdrawal  of 
the  summons.  The  expenses  incurred  amount  to  three 
pounds  ten  shillings.  If  your  American  friend  pays  this, 
and  at  the  same  time  wishes  to  benefit  the  Widow  and 
Orphans'  Fund  Association  of  the  railway  line,  a  check  for 
five  pounds  in  full  will  be  received." 

It  is  almost  unnecessary  to  state  that  the  American's  Eng- 
lish friend  did  the  needful  instanter,  and  the  American  him- 
self breathed  freer  accordingly,  although  it  had  cost  him 
twentj^-five  dollars  for  jumping  upon  an  English  train  iu 
motion. 

7 


98 


A   RIDE    IN    LONDOX. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

London,  according'  to  the  Registrar-General,  covers  an  area 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty-two  square  miles,  although  it  is 
described  as  thirty  miles  in  circumference.  To  the  newly- 
arrived  American,  London  appears  to  be  an  aggregation  of 
cities,  a  collection  of  interminable  streets,  with  houses  and 
public  buildings  rather  dingy  of  aspect,  and  lacking  that 
"  smart,"  bright,  and  fresh  appearance  which  characterizes 
American  cities. 

I  might  expend  a  volume  of  description  and  a  year  of 
time  in  prying  about  into  curious  old  courts,  streets  cele- 
brated in  history,  beginning  with  the  old  Watling  Street  of 
the  Anglo-Saxons,  and  where  in  more  modern  Roman  times 
was  the  centre  of  Roman  Londinum  ;  or  into  old  mansions 
where  kings,  princes,  and  warriors  have  met,  or  scholars 
have  studied  ;  or  on  spots  where  fierce  contests  and  bloody 
disputes  have  decided  for  the  time  the  course  of  the  rulers 
of  the  present  foremost  nation  of  the  world.  All  about  us 
in  the  old  city  are  monuments  of  the  past ;  even  the  com- 
monest names  upon  the  street  signboards  are  indices  to  a 
page  of  history. 

But  "  What  is  there  new  ?  "  asked  an  American  one 
morning,  as  we  discussed  our  "  chops  and  mufSus."  "  Let 
us  see  tlie  newest  sights  to-day  ;  "  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that 
we  called  a  trim  Hansom  cab  for  a  drive  from  the  West  End 
to  the  Bethnal  Green  Museum,  or  rather  we  should  say  to 
the  Bethnal  Green  branch  of  the  South  Kensington  Museum. 
Now  this  is  a  long  ride,  and  a  genuine  Londoner  would  first 
have  taken  a  'bus  on  Oxford  Street,  ridden  down  to  the 
Bank  (fourpence),  then  another  'bus  or  the  "  underground," 
and  another  sixpence  would  have  carried  him  to  the  desired 


OLD    HOLBORN   BARS.  99 

point.  But  one  of  the  best  vehicles  to  see  London  in  is  a 
Hansom  cab,  and  when  two  persons  sig'ht-seeing  can  engage 
such  a  vehicle,  with  a  bright,  well-posted  driver,  as  we  were 
able  to,  at  one  shilling  and  sixpence  an  hour,  what  American 
would  hesitate  ?  Accordingly,  on  our  trip  to  Bethnal  Green, 
or  Bednal  Green,  celebrated  in  the  old  ballad  of  the  Blind 
Beggar  of  Bednal  Green,  we  determined  to  see  as  much  as 
possible  of  London  streets  en  route. 

So  away  we  dashed  down  through  Oxford  Street,  with  its 
shops  and  crowds  of  people,  whirling  carriages,  and  rattling 
omnibuses,  till  we  debouched  into  Holborn,  —  "  High  Hol- 
born,"  the  Holborn  Hill  of  old  London;  but  scarce  any  one 
mentions  it  except  as  "  Holborn,"  or  "  'Oburn,"  now,  for 
instead  of  the  descent  of  the  hill,  a  broad  viaduct  now  gives 
a  level  grade  for  us  to  rattle  over  at  a  smart  pace,  and  look 
downwards  towards  the  old  Fleetditch  (was  there  ever  such 
a  place  ?)  off  towards  Smithfield,  or  down  at  a  terminus  of 
that  wonderful  hole  in  the  ground,  the  Loudon  Underground 
Railway. 

Just  before  arriving  at  this  great  viaduct,  we  have  passed 
the  Holborn  Bars,  the  position  of  which  is  marked  by  an 
inscription  painted  upon  an  old  building,  at  which  a  toll  is 
levied  on  "  vehicles  not  belonging  to  freemen,"  entering  the 
city.  Only  think  of  it,  —  "  entering  the  city,"  —  the  coun- 
try from  M'hich  the  strangers  used  to  come,  the  great  city 
has  long  since  overflowed,  and  from  these  Holborn  Bars  you 
may  now  ride  back  into  what  was  then  the  country  for  miles 
and  miles,  and  not  begin  to  be  out  of  the  city,  or  free  from 
its  endless  succession  of  shops,  streets,  and  houses. 

Away  we  rattle  and  leave  Holborn  behind  us  ;  the  throngs 
are  denser,  the  vehicles  innumerable,  and  the  confusion 
greater,  till  we  are  down  into  the  actual  "  City,"  as  the 
Londoner  calls  it,  in  the  very  thick  of  London  business. 
Cheapside  and  Poultry,  near  Newgate  Street,  and  little  nar- 
row Paternoster  Row,  the  place  noted  of  the  publishing- 
houses,  past  an  end  view  of  the  great  general  post-oflSce, 


100  BOW   BELLS    AXD    OLD   JEWEY. 

amid  the  thunder  and  crush  of  all  sorts  of  vehicles  ;  past 
Milk  Street,  where  Sir  Thomas  More  was  born,  and  little 
narrow  Bread  Street,  opposite  where  the  poet  Milton  first 
saw  the  lig'ht,  and  in  which  was  the  old  tavern  where 
Shakspeare,  Raleigh,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  and  Ben  Jonson 
used  to  meet  —  the  Mermaid, 

There  are  historic  events  enough  that  are  strung  along 
Cheapside  to  make  a  catalogue  of  enumerations  ;  and  one 
thing  you,  as  a  stranger,  like  to  hear  in  this  vicinity,  if  you 
are  near  enough  to  Bow  Church,  as  you  have  to  be,  owing 
to  the  noise,  is  the  sound  of  Bow  bells,  and  to  see  if  by 
any  effort  of  your  modern  imagination  their  chime  can  be 
convei'ted  into  the  ancient  couplet  the}^  are  said  to  have 
sung  to  Dick  Whittington. 

Here  runs  into  the  end  of  Cheapside,  or  the  Poultry,  as 
it  is  called  from  its  liundreds-of-years  ago  poultry-market, 
"  Old  Jewry,"  of  course  once  the  quarters  of  the  Jews,  that 
the  old  Norman  kings  used  to  amuse  themselves  with  hack- 
ing and  burning,  squeezing  money  from,  and  abusing,  and 
all  under  the  name  of  Religion.  Man^'^  have  been  the  attacks 
of  popular  fury  directed  upon  this  quarter,  and  the  history 
of  the  Hebrews  in  London  in  past  years,  as  elsewhere,  is  one 
of  shameful  wrong  and  persecution.  There  is  very  little  of 
a  Jewish  character  about  the  street  now,  except  its  name, 
and  if  you  search  history  you  will  have  to  go  back  into  the 
foggy,  misty  accounts  of  six  hundred  years  ago  to  find 
when  the  Hebrews  held  possession  of  and  gave  the  locality 
its  name,  when  the  first  synagogue  of  the  Jews  stood  there 
in  1264.  If  one  wishes  to  see  the  Jews  of  to-day  in  London, 
let  him  take  a  walk  through  Holiwell  Street,  or  Hounsditch. 

But  near  the  corner  of  old  Jewry  Street  and  Cheapside, 
or  between  it  and  a  narrow  lane  called  Ironmongers'  Lane, 
stands  a  building  called  the  Mercers'  Company's  Hall,  and 
we  halted  to  pay  it  a  visit,  for  here  is  where  stood  the  house 
of  the  father  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  and  is  where  that  cele- 
brated prelate  is  said  to  have  been  born. 


THE    EXGLISH    GUILDS.  101 

These  Mercers,  and  Fishmongers,  Barber-surg-eons,  Gro- 
cers, Goldsmiths,  &c.,  were  the  guilds  or  trades-unions  of 
their  time,  and  there  used  to  be  over  a  hundred  of  them,  all 
with  certain  rights  and  privileges,  and  those  which  remain 
having  halls,  records,  and  histories  preserved,  are  in  them- 
selves a  rich  mine  of  antiquarian  lore.  Some  of  these  bear 
names  of  trades  the  very  existence  of  which  has  passed 
away  and  is  now  forgotten,  as,  for  instance,  "  bowyers," 
makers  of  bows,  and  "  loriners,"  the  latter  name  of  which  a 
tailor  who  served  me  had  inscribed  on  his  card  with  some- 
thing of  a  flourish,  showing  that  he  was  a  member  of  that 
illustrious  society.  And  loriuer  was  the  ancient  name  for 
harness  and  bridle-makers. 

Thirty  or  forty  of  these  city  societies  have  halls  ;  some  are 
very  rich,  and  the  members  in  no  way  whatever  connected 
with  the  trades  which  the  name  of  the  society  represents.  In 
fact,  I  think  there  is  only  one  now,  "  The  Stationers,"  that 
requires  that  its  members  shall  be  members  of  its  trade. 
The  members  of  others  have  the  management  of  trust  funds 
left  for  schools,  hospitals,  or  homes  for  decayed  members 
of  the  craft,  which  institutions  are  still  in  existence,  and  ex- 
cellent charitable  institutions. 

In  these  old  halls,  several  of  which  I  visited,  are  many 
curious  old  records  and  relics  which  the  custodian  in  charge, 
who  is  generally  a  garrulous  old  fellow,  with  the  legends 
and  stories  of  the  society  at  his  tongue's  end,  will,  if  it  be 
set  in  motion  by  the  magic  of  half  a  crown,  rattle  off  curious 
old  legends  in  the  dim,  dreamy,  halfdarkened  halls  to  you, 
as  he  points  to  an  age-blackened  picture  of  some  royal  patron 
of  the  society,  permits  you  to  sit  in  the  great,  carved,  un- 
comfortable arm-chair  that  has  been  the  seat  of  a  long  line 
of  departed  presidents  of  the  club,  or  lifts  reverently  from 
its  caGC  the  silver  loving-cup  from  which,  for  three  centuries 
past,  members  have  sipped  their  spiced  potations.  And  it 
must  be  confessed  that  the  present  members  of  these  city 
companies  are  much  given  to  good  eating  and  drinking  at 


102  THOMAS    A    BECKEt's       BIUTHPLACE. 

their  quarterly  or  annual  meetings,  when  they  come  together 
to  give  an  account  of  the  present  management  of  the  funds 
which  the  old  founders  left  for  the  support  of  needy 
members,  almshouses,  or  other  charitable  trusts  above  re- 
ferred to. 

This  Mercers'  Hall  on  Cheapside  was  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  of  those  of  the  city  companies,  and  the  society 
boasted  sovereigns  on  its  list  of  members  —  Richard  II., 
who  granted  its  first  charter.  Queen  Elizabeth  was  an  hon- 
orary member ;  also  Sir  Thomas  Gresham,  Caxton,  and 
AVhittington,  A  fine  old  picture  of  Gresham,  a  cup  from 
which  Whittington,  perhaps,  has  sipped  his  punch,  and 
specimens  of  fine  old  plate  of  the  sixteenth  century,  are 
among  the  treasures  of  the  Mercers. 

And  here  it  was,  just  back  of  this  hall  stood  the  house 
of  Gilbert  a  Becket.  Here  it  was,  so  the  romantic  story 
runs,  that  the  Saracen  maiden,  an  emir's  daughter,  whose 
heart  he  had  won  when  a  prisoner  in  the  East  during  the 
crusades,  found  him  after  many  wanderings.  The  faithful- 
ness of  her  attachment  is  told  in  old  English  story  and 
ballad,  which  describes  her  adventures  in  coming  from  her 
native  land  to  England  alone,  and  knowing  but  two  words 
of  the  language,  "  London  "  and  "  Gilbert ;  "  she  sought 
her  Christian  lover,  reached  London,  and  at  last,  after  tire- 
some wanderings  from  street  to  street,  repeating  the  name 
of  Gilbert,  and  winning  all  hearts  by  her  beauty  and  modesty, 
had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  him,  and,  what  was  better, 
finding  him  faithful  and  true  ;  for  he  at  once  took  her  to  his 
heart,  presented  her  to  his  friends  as  his  betrothed,  and, 
after  being  baptized  in  the  Christian  faith,  she  became  the 
bride  of  him  she  had  so  truly  loved  and  faithfully  sought. 

Here  is  an  extract  from  the  ballad  that  the  tourist  may 
prime  his  imagination  with  when  he  halts  at,  as  we  did  in 
the  last  chapter,  or  passes  Becket's  birthplace,  near  the 
corner  of  "  Old  Jewry,"  or  bring  to  mind  when  he  visits 
Canterbury  Cathedral,  and  follows  the  course  said  to  have 


THE  BALLAD  OF  BECKET.  103 

been  taken  by  the  "  turbulent  priest  "  (as  King  Henry  II. 
called  him)  when  pursued  by  the  avenging  knights  to  the 
place  where  his  brains  spattered  on  the  stone  pavement 
beneath  the  fierce  blow  of  Richard  le  Bret ;  the  child  of 
the  English  merchant  and  Saracen  mother  becoming  one  of 
the  most  celebrated  martyrs  in  English  history. 

"  It  was  a  merchant,  a  merchant  of  fame, 
And  he  sailed  to  the  Holy  Land ; 

Gilbert  a  Becket  was  his  name ; 

And  he  went  to  trade  with  the  Syrians  rich, 
For  velvets  and  satins  and  jeAvels,  which 

He  might  sell  on  the  western  strand. 

**  It  was  there  he  met  with  a  Saracen  maid, 
Of  virtue  and  beauty  rare  ; 

And  behold,  our  merchant  forgot  his  trade, 
His  English  habits  aside  he  flung, 
And  he  learned  to  speak  with  a  Saracen  tongue, 

For  the  sake  of  that  damsel  fair. 

*'  They  plighted  their  faith,  and  they  vowed  to  wed, 
If  Gilbert  should  e'er  be  free  ; 

How  could  she  doubt  a  word  he  said? 

For  her  heart  was  trustful,  pure,  and  mild. 
Like  the  heart  of  a  young,  unfearing  child, 

And  she  loved  him  hopefully." 

The  merchant  and  fair  Saracen  planned  an  escape,  but  the 
latter  was  discovered,  and  the  Englishman  fled  alone.  The 
maiden  escaped  from  her  jailers,  however,  and  some  English 
sailors,  pitying  her  beseeching  tones  of  "  London,"  which 
was  the  only  word  she  uttered,  gave  her  passage.  When 
arrived  at  the  strange  city  — 

"  Through  all  that  maze  of  square  and  street, 

With  pleading  looks  she  Avent ; 
And  still  her  weary  voice  was  sweet. 

But  now  was  "  Gilbert "  the  name  she  cried; 

And  the  world  of  London  is  very  wide, 
And  they  knew  not  whom  she  meant. 

"  Now  Gilbert  a  Becket  was  dwelling  there, 
Like  a  merchant-prince  was  he  ; 


104  BUSINESS    CENTRE    OF   LONDON. 

His  gardens  were  wide  and  his  halls  were  fair, 
His  servants  flattered,  his  minstrels  played, 
He  had  almost  forgotten  his  Saracen  maid. 

And  their  parting  beyond  the  sea." 

But  "word  was  brought  him,  as  he  sat  at  the  banquet  board, 
of  a  beautiful  Saracen,  who  wandered  through  square  and 
street,  murmuring  "  Gilbert "  to  all  she  met,  and,  as  the  bal- 
lad goes,  "  his  conscience  pricked  him  sore."  lie  sought  the 
wanderer  out,  found  that  it  was  indeed  his  Saracen  maid  — 

"  And  now  there  is  nothing  can  part,  save  death, 
The  bridegroom  and  the  bride." 

"  Their  first-born  son  was  a  priest  of  iiower, 

Who  ruled  on  English  ground ; 
His  fame  remaineth  to  this  hour ! 

God  send  to  every  valiant  knight 

A  lady  as  true,  and  a  home  as  bright, 
As  Gilbert,  the  merchant,  found." 

But  the  Hansom  cannot  stop  here  long  in  the  rush  of 
travel,  so  we  rattle  on  amid  the  throng,  on  in  between  the 
Bank  of  England  and  the  Royal  Exchange  into  Threadneedle 
Street.  Boys  selling  penny  boxes  of  matches,  uniformed 
shoeblacks  at  the  corners,  hawkers  and  street  pedlers  of 
everything,  porters  in  a  sort  of  uniform  apron,  and  wearing 
a  brass  ticket  or  medal  of  office,  cabs  coming,  going,  halting, 
twisting  and  turning  ;  omnibuses  at  this,  the  terminus  of  their 
route,  discharging  and  reloading  ;  snug  broughams  of  rich 
old  capitalists  leaving  or  receiving  their  owners  ;  hurrying 
clerks  with  pen  behind  ear  and  slip  of  paper  in  hand,  jDolice- 
men,  letter-carriers  in  uniform  with  sacks  over  their  shoul. 
ders,  the  important  beadle  at  the  entrance  of  the  bank,  sta- 
tionery stores  crammed  with  every  article  used  in  counting- 
house  work,  —  all  proclaim  we  are  in  the  business  centre 
of  the  great  commercial  capital  of  the  world,  directly  oppo- 
site the  entrance  to  the  Bank  of  England,  spreading  its 
wings  over  eight  acres  of  ground,  keeping  a  thousand  clerks 
at  work,  who  have  over  six  millions  and  a  half  dollars  of  the 


A   CHEAP   NEIGHBOEHOOD.  105 

public  and  about  one  hundred  and  forty  millions  of  private 
funds  paid  in  every  week,  and  who  have  to  keep  the  ac- 
counts of  over  two  hundred  and  forty  thousand  persons 
holding  the  national  debt. 

But  we  will  not  go  over  the  old  story  of  the  Bank,  so 
familiar  to  all,  but  let  our  driver,  with  his  skill  of  twisting 
and  turning,  wind  his  Hansom  in  and  out  of  the  crowd  till 
we  are  past  Merchant  Tailors'  Hall,  through  narrow  Thread- 
needle,  and  rolling  along  Bishopsgate  Street,  another  old 
street,  named  from  the  old  city  gates,  built  in  680  ;  "Bish- 
opsgate within,"  and  "  Bishopsgate  without,"  names  used 
to  this  day,  meaning  that  part  of  the  city  that  was  within 
the  walls  and  without  them.  This  used  to  be  an  aristocratic 
street  about  the  year  1500,  and  there  are  some  antiquated 
old  piles  here  that  look  as  if  they  belonged  to  about  that 
period  ;  but  past  them  we  rattle,  past  an  endless,  never- 
ceasing  string  of  stores  of  every  description,  en  route  to 
Bethnal  Green,  where  the  "  Blind  Beggar"  sat,  whose  fair 
daughter,  as  the  ballad  runs,  was  married  to  a  knight,  and 
at  the  betrothal,  in  a  money-dropping  match  with  some  of  the 
sneering  gallants  of  the  time,  the  apparent  beggar  sur- 
prising them  by  dropping  a  heap  of  gold  pieces,  double  the 
size  of  that  of  his  pretentious  reviler,  and  finally  declared 
and  proved  himself  and  daughter  to  be  of  noble  birth, 
winding  up  the  story  in  the  usual  approved  style  of  a  happy 
marriage. 

We  ride  from  Bishopsgate  Street  to  Shoreditch,  and  are 
evidently  in  a  cheap  neighborhood,  and  one  especially  where 
bootmakers  seem  to  congregate.  Cheap  John  stores,  green- 
grocers, fish-stalls,  and  a  preponderance  of  small  spirit  stores, 
and  children  coming  out  from  outlying  alle3's,  are  symp- 
toms of  a  poor  neighborhood  ;  yet  this,  years  ago,  was  a 
goodly  city  quarter,  this  east  end  of  the  town.  Here, 
just  before  us,  rises  a  church-steeple,  St.  Leonard's  Church, 
in  whose  burial-ground  sleep  Burbage,  the  celebrated  actor 
of    Shakspeare's    plays,    and    his    associate.   Will  Somers, 


106  FIVE    MILES    FROM   CHARIXG   CROSS. 

the  noted  jester  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  Richard 
Tarleton,  the  clown  of  Shakspeare's  plays  in  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's time,  besides  Cowley  and  William  Sly,  original  actors 
in  the  great  poet's  plays. 

The  cab-driver,  it  seems,  has  heard  of  Will  Somers,  but 
the  others  are  names  unknown  to  him.  "  Never  'eard  of 
'em,  sir ;  but  AVill  Somers,  you  see,  was  a  funny  fellow  who 
used,  they  say,  to  make  the  king  laugh  when  he  felt  dull." 

The  Hansom  turned  into  Church  Street,  and  brought  up 
opposite  a  fine  open  square,  in  which  stood  the  object  of  our 
search,  Bethnal  Green  Museum,  at  the  East  End  of  London, 
five  miles  from  Charing  Cross — a  five-mile  cab-ride — and 
still  we  were  in  a  densely  populated  district.  This  Museum 
was  placed  here  as  a  branch  of  the  South  Kensington  Mu- 
seum, which  is  in  a  more  aristocratic  quarter,  in  order  that 
one  of  the  poorest  districts  of  London  might  have  a  means 
of  free  recreation,  although  I  must  confess,  from  the  char- 
acter of  the  collection,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  proper 
enjoyment  of  it  must  be  far  beyond  the  average  compre- 
hension of  the  poorer  class,  who  would  fail  to  see  in  many 
of  the  rare  articles  of  vix'tu,  antiquity,  and  bijouterie, 
anything  but  faded  gilding  or  old  trumpery.  Let  me  not 
judge  too  harshly,  however,  for  the  open-mouthed  wonder 
and  the  undisguised  gaze  of  rapture  of  a  rough  group  be- 
fore Murillo's  paintings  and  Landseer's  almost  living  ani- 
mals, proved  their  enjoyment  of  genuine  art,  and  were  mute 
evidence  of  the  power  of  the  artists. 

This  museum  building  is  of  dark-red  brick,  the  front  with 
three  arches,  and  the  sides  two  and  a  half  stories  high, 
looking  like  a  very  respectable  railroad  station.  In  the  great 
open  space  of  the  grounds  which  surround  it,  and  in  front  of 
the  principal  entrance,  is  an  elegant  fountain,  made  entirely 
of  majolica  ware,  and  consisting  of  vases,  cups,  and  figures, 
from  which  the  spouting  streams  of  water  rise  in  graceful 
jets,  the  whole  being  surmounted  by  the  figure  of  St. 
George  and  the  Dragon.     The  space  in  which  this  museum 


BETHNAL  GREEX  MUSEUM.  107 

is  built  is  one  end  of  a  great  open  plot  that  was  boug-ht  as 
a  gift  to  the  poor  in  the  reign  of  James  the  Fii'st,  when  this 
part  of  London,  now  a  densely  populated  manufacturing 
district,  was  an  open  field. 

This  move  to  afford  entertainment  and  instruction  to  the 
•working  classes,  it  should  be  understood,  is  supported  and 
carried  out  by  the  government,  although  the  collection  on 
exhibition,  when  the  author  visited  the  building,  was  that  of 
a  private  individual.  Sir  Richard  Wallace,  and  occupied 
nearly  the  whole  available  space  of  the  museum.  It  con- 
sisted of  pictures  and  works  of  art  of  the  rarest  and  most 
curious  description. 

The  design  of  this  museum,  like  its  parent  the  South 
Kensington,  is  to  afford  instruction  as  well  as  entertainment, 
and  that  there  should  be  exhibited  an  Animal  Products  Col- 
lection intended  to  illustrate  the  various  applications  of 
animal  substances  to  industrial  purposes  ;  a  food  collec- 
tion of  the  different  kinds  of  grain  from  different  coun- 
tries, and  all  kinds  of  food  such  as  could  be  exhibited,  and 
methods  of  their  preparation,  —  a  most  interesting  part  of 
the  exhibition.  Then  there  are  woods  and  the  different  meth- 
ods of  working  them,  metals,  &c.,  all  of  which  will,  when 
the  design  is  carried  out,  form  a  grand  trade  museum,  which 
here  at  the  East  End  of  the  town  cannot  fail  of  being  of 
great  value  to  the  mass  of  artisans  who  live  in  this  vicinity. 

On  Mondays,  Tuesdays,  and  Saturdays  the  museum  is 
opened  free  from  10  a.  m.  to  10  p.  m.  Wednesdays, 
Thursdays,  and  Fridays  are  designated  as  students'  days, 
and  on  those  days  sixpence  admission  is  charged,  although 
tickets  are  issued  available  both  for  this  museum  and  for  the 
South  Kensington  one  at,  weekly  for  sixpence,  monthly  one 
shilling  sixpence,  and  quarterly  three  shillings.  Yearly 
tickets  for  students'  days  arc  issued  to  any  school  at  one 
pound,  which  will  admit  all  the  pupils  of  such  school  on  all 
students'  days  for  a  year,  —  liberal  arrangements  enough 
to  suit  all  who  desire  to  go  on  other  than  the  free  days. 


108  a:?^  admirable  institution. 

The  site  for  this  museum  was  purchased  by  money  sub- 
scribed by  noblemen  and  other  wealthy  people,  and  pre- 
sented to  the  government  in  fee  simple  for  the  purpose  of 
having  a  museum  erected  thereon,  the  government  taking  the 
whole  matter  then  into  its  hands  as  a  national  affair.  The 
committee  making  this  offer  submitted  that  the  museum 
should  be  made  educational  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word, 
and  that  convenient  and  comfortable  refreshment  rooms  be 
added  to  the  other  attractions  of  the  place. 

The  basement  of  the  building,  which  contains  several  well- 
arranged,  well-lighted  rooms,  has  therefore  a  large  space 
devoted  to  a  restaurant,  and  the  other  rooms  were  used  for 
library  rooms,  and  for  school-rooms,  for  instruction  in  draw- 
ing, engineering,  designing,  and  other  branches  of  science  and 
art.  The  interior  arrangement  of  this  museum  above  the  base- 
ment floor  is  simple  and  convenient  for  the  purposes  for  which, 
it  was  designed.  It  consists  of  a  large  hall,  around  which 
runs  a  double  gallery ;  the  first  gallery  is  raised  but  a  few 
feet  above  the  main  floor,  and  is  about  a  dozen  feet  in 
height,  and  that  above  it,  which  is  reached  by  staircases  in 
the  middle,  is  of  much  greater  height,  reaching  to  the  light- 
arched  roof,  with  its  graceful  iron  frame ;  all  the  supports, 
balcony  and  railings  inside  the  building  are  of  iron  ;  and 
light,  admitted  from  the  arched  roof,  and  also  at  the  sides 
of  the  galleries,  is  artistically  managed.  The  galleries  are 
very  wide,  sufficiently  so  for  a  row  of  large  glass  cases  of 
six  feet  in  width,  or  screens  for  pictures,  and  yet  leave 
abundance  of  room  for  locomotion.  The  chief  attraction, 
when  the  author  visited  this  museum,  was  the  magnificent 
collection  known  as  the  Hertford  Collection  of  Art  Objects, 
which  filled  the  whole  available  space  of  the  museum,  except 
that  portion  of  the  lower  galleries  occupied  by  the  food  and 
animal  product  collections.  It  seems  hardly  possible  that 
even  the  chance  or  thoughtless  visitor  can  walk  through  this 
or  the  parent  museum,  and  question  the  practical  utility  of 
such  institutions  with  the  people. 


THE  KOYAL  ALBERT  HALL.  109 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Two  of  the  more  modern  wonders  of  London,  and  two  of 
which  too  little  has  been  said,  and  that  travellers  should  not 
fail  to  visit,  are  but  a  short  distance  from  the  Kensington 
Museum,  which  I  have  recently  referred  to  so  frequently,  — 
the  Koyal  Albert  Hall  of  Arts,  and  the  Prince  Consort  Me- 
morial or  Monument.  The  Royal  Albert  Hall  is  a  magnifi- 
cent building,  elegant  in  proportions,  perfect  for  the  purposes 
for  which  it  was  designed,  and  the  noble  proportions  and 
conveniences  of  which  cannot  fail  to  excite  the  admiration 
of  the  visitor. 

This  great  hall,  which  is  designed  for  public  meetings, 
musical  entertainments,  meetings  of  science  and  art,  exhibi- 
tions, concerts,  &c.,  is  situated  in  Hyde  Park,  directly  in 
front  of  the  elegant  Horticultural  Gardens,  and  between  the 
Cromwell  and  Kensington  road.  Directly  opposite  is  the 
most  magnificent  modern  monument  in  the  world, — the 
Albert  Memorial,  —  and  near  by  the  Kensington  Palace  and 
the  Kensington  Gardens,  rich  in  their  beautiful  old  trees  and 
fine  vista  of  view,  making  this  one  of  the  most  pleasant  and 
attractive  spots  in  London.  K  Prince  Albert  had  left 
nothing  else  by  which  he  might  be  remembered,  the  de- 
sign of  this  noble  building,  which  he  himself  suggested, 
would  be  sufficient  to  perpetuate  his  name.  Externally  it 
presents  the  appearance  of  a  vast  circular  building  of  brick, 
with  high,  narrow  windows,  above  which  was  a  broad  band 
of  colored  mosaic  work  representing  the  peoples  of  all 
nations,  other  simple  but  effective  ornamentations  in  the 
trimmings  being  properly  placed. 

The  building  really  consists  of  two  cToncentrie  circles  or 
brick  walls.     Between  these  is  a  wide  space  in  which  are 


110  GRAND   AUDITORIUM. 

the  staircases,  lobbies,  ante-rooms,  elevators,  &c.,  and  in  the 
lower  portion  of  which,  in  1813,  was  disposed  a  portion  of 
the  annual  display  of  the  International  Exhibition,  with  the 
buildings  of  which  the  hall  was  easily  connected  by  a  cov- 
ered passage  and  walk  through  the  Horticultural  Gardens. 
These  corridors,  or  space  between  the  walls,  are  admirably 
arranged,  so  that  all  noise  or  movement  therein  is  entirely 
shut  off  from  the  audience  within.  But  step  within,  and 
you  have  a  view  reminding  you  of  what  the  form  of  Rome's 
Colosseum  would  be  restored,  only  somewhat  reduced, 
though  by  no  means  of  insignificant  proportions  for  these 
modern  days. 

A  vast,  perfect  circus,  with  the  seats  rising  one  above 
the  other,  and  the  graceful  curve  of  beauty  greeting  the 
eye  at  every  turn,  meets  the  view.  The  great  arena  seats 
a  thousand  persons  easily  and  comfortably  ;  an  amphithe- 
atre fifteen  hundred.  Midway  rises  a  girdle  of  two  tiers 
of  boxes,  which  take  in  eleven  hundred  more,  then  circles 
round  a  graceful  balcony,  in  which  twenty-five  hundred 
more  may  look  upon  the  scene,  and  above  circles  a  gallery 
where  two  thousand  more  may  comfortably  be  accommo- 
dated. One  hardly  realizes  the  vastness  of  the  building  at 
first  sight,  so  perfect  are  the  curves,  and  so  much  is  taken 
in  at  one  sweep  of  the  vision.  At  one  end  is  situated  the 
grand  organ  and  the  orchestra,  in  which  space  is  afforded 
for  two  thousand  performers  ;  so  that  the  seating  capacity 
of  this  grand  modern  circus  is  fully  eight  thousand  ;  and 
I  have  no  doubt  that  nearly  ten  thousand  could  easily  be 
accommodated  within  its  walls.  In  fact,  that  is  the  number 
reported  to  have  been  present  at  the  M;i sonic  ceremonies 
which  took  place  there,  by  which  the  Prince  of  Wales  was 
created  Grand  Master  of  the  order. 

The  dome  of  the  building  is  entirely  of  glass,  but  a  novel 
and  pleasing  effect  is  obtained  by  the  suspension  of  a  sort 
of  tent  beneath,  —  an  idea  borrowed  perhaps  from  the  vela- 
rium which  shielded  the  audience  in  the  Roman  Colosseum, 


A  WELL-PLANNED    INTERIOR.  Ill 

and  which  softens  the  glare  of  light,  and  imparts  a  certain 
air  of  grace  and  coolness  to  the  space. 

The  dimensions  given  are  :  the  greatest  width,  two  hun- 
dred feet ;  length,  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet ;  and  height, 
from  arena  to  dome,  one  hundred  and  forty  feet.  The  dome 
is  formed  of  huge  iron  ribs  resting  in  an  iron  ring.  The 
cost  of  this  splendid  building  was  over  two  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds. 

The  coup  d'oeil  from  the  front  of  the  arena,  when  it  is 
filled  with  spectators,  is  magnificent  in  the  extreme  ;  and 
the  great  organ,  which  some  of  the  local  guide-books  aver 
to  be  the  finest  in  the  world,  may  be  so,  but  it  certainly  was 
not  played  as  well  as  that  of  Lucerne  or  Freyburg.  The 
one  thing  that  will  strike  the  visitor  who  has  opportunity  to 
examine  this  building  by  daylight,  as  I  did,  is  its  many 
conveniences  and  improvements  over  ordinary  exhibition- 
halls  or  concert-rooms.  The  chairs  in  the  arena  are  roomy 
and  comfortable,  the  boxes  are  commodious  and  well  fitted, 
the  spacious  corridors  I  have  before  alluded  to  afford  ample 
space  for  promenade;  then  there  are  refreshment-rooms, 
retiring-rooms,  and  in  wings  of  the  main  building  are  a 
promenade-room,  restaurant,  and  small  concert-room,  steam- 
engines  which  heat  the  building,  run  the  elevator,  blow  the 
big  organ,  and  keep  ventilating-fans  in  motion  that  regulate 
the  temperature  of  the  hall.  There  are  abundant  doors  for 
ingress  and  egress,  and  in  fact  the  architects  and  builders 
seem  to  have  been  successful  in  remembering  man}'  minor 
points  that  are  too  frequently  forgotten,  but  which  conduce 
much  to  the  comfort  of  a  large  audience. 

The  sumptuous  and  costly  monument  to  Prince  Albert, 
opposite  the  Albert  Hall,  would  very  naturally  make  one 
wonder  Avhat  mighty  warrior,  great  statesman,  savior  of 
his  country,  or  public  benefactor  it  was  erected  to  commem- 
orate, although  perhaps  it  may  be  said  no  monument  is  too 
grand  for  a  true  and  honest  man.  But  when  we  consider 
what  England  and  the  whole  civilized  world  owes  to  many 


112  COSTLIEST   MONUMENT   OP   MODERN   TIMES. 

of  her  sons  who  have  scarcely  memorial  stone  to  mark  their 
last  resting-place,  we  look  with  some  surprise  at  this  na- 
tional monument,  erected  to  one  not  born  on  her  soil,  whose 
chief  notoriety  was  that  he  was  husband  to  the  queen  of 
England,  and  who,  without  being  a  man  of  any  especial 
genius  or  great  force  of  chai'acter,  was  noted  chiefly  for 
a  blameless  life,  and  as  an  upright  man  and  exemplary 
husband. 

The  Prince  also  always  had  an  ambition  for  forwarding 
all  schemes  which  should  tend  to  promote  science  and  art, 
improve  the  condition  of  the  humbler  classes,  and  advance 
the  cause  of  education.  It  was  largely  through  his  exer- 
tions that  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  and  similar  free 
exhibitions  and  schools  of  art,  were  provided  for  the  people. 
The  English  appreciated  him  as  a  true  man,  the  queen  loved 
him  as  a  faithful  and  devoted  husband,  and  it  was  her  desire 
that  this  monument  should  be  a  national  memento,  as  well 
as  a  work  of  great  artistic  beauty,  to  commemorate  a  blame- 
less life,  as  worthy  of  imitation  as  great  military  deeds. 
And  so  here  rises  to-day  the  costliest  and  most  elegant 
monumental  structure  of  modern  times,  erected  by  the 
English  people  to  a  German  prince. 

The  foundation  for  this  splendid  monument  to  rest  upon 
is  a  lofty  and  square  pyramid  of  handsomely  chiselled  gran- 
ite steps,  the  length  being  nearly  two  hundred  feet  each 
side.  The  landings  and  platform  of  this  grand  staircase 
are  paved  with  stone  of  various  colors,  taken  from  different 
quarries  in  England.  After  ascending  this  splendid  flight 
of  steps,  the  visitor  arrives  at  the  grand  platform,  laid  in 
colored  stone,  as  above  described.  His  further  progress  is 
stopped  by  a  massive  and  elegantly  wrought  bronzed  or  gilt 
railing,  which  surrounds  other  steps  leading  to  the  imme- 
diate base  of  the  monument. 

At  the  angles  of  the  upper  square,  formed  by  the  bronzed 
railing,  as  at  the  four  corners  of  this  pyramid  of  steps,  are 
four   remarkable  and    elegant    groups  of   statuary,  carved 


SUPEEB   STATUARY.  113 

from  that  hard  Italian  marble  known  as  "  campanella," 
from  the  bell-like  sound  it  emits  when  struck.  Each  of 
these  groups  is  upon  a  huge  pedestal,  and  weighs  from 
twenty-five  to  thirty  tons.  They  are  colossal  figures,  alle- 
gorically  representing  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe.  That 
known  as  Europe  is  the  work  of  Patrick  McDowell,  R.  A., 
and  consists  of  five  female  figures.  Europe  is  represented 
by  a  female  figure  seated  upon  a  bull ;  she  wears  a  crown,  and 
bears  the  sceptre  in  one  hand  and  globe  in  the  other.  She 
is  surrounded  by  four  other  female  figures,  in  sitting  pos- 
tures. The  figure  of  England  is  easily  recognized,  with  the 
waves  beating  up  against  the  base  of  the  rock  upon  which 
she  sits,  bearing  in  her  right  hand  a  trident,  and  at  her  left 
the  shield  with  the  blended  crosses  of  St.  George  and  St. 
Andrew,  her  sculptured  brow  and  features  wearing  an  im- 
press of  conscious  power  and  noble  dignity.  Italy  sits  on 
a  broken  column,  with  head  slightly  raised  and  hand  up- 
lifted, while  the  lyre  and  pallet  at  her  feet  are  symbolical 
of  music  and  painting, — a  classical  and  beautiful  figure. 
France  is  represented  as  a  military  power,  a  figure  of  de- 
termined mien,  the  right  hand  resting  upon  the  hilt  of  a 
sword,  while  the  left  grasps  the  wreath  of  laurel.  Germany 
is  represented  by  an  allegorical  figure  with  studious  and 
thoughtful  brow,  as  she  sits  with  open  volume  upon  her 
knees, 

Eound  this  beautiful  group  of  statuary  in  all  its  fair  pro- 
portions I  walked,  and  then  turned  to  one  of  an  entirely 
different  character,  but  strikingly  effective,  —  that  of  Asia, 
at  another  angle  of  the  square.  This  is  also  typified  by  five 
human  figures  and  an  animal.  Upon  the  back  of  an  admi- 
rably sculptured  kneeling  elephant,  apparently  just  about  to 
rise,  is  seated  an  exceedingly  beautiful  semi-nude  figure  of 
an  Asiatic  woman,  in  the  act  of  removing  her  veil.  By  the 
side  of  the  elephant,  with  one  hand  resting  upon  him, 
stands  a  Persian,  with  calm,  thoughtful  brow,  long  beard, 
high,  conical  cap,  graceful,  drooping  robe,  and  shawl-twined 


114  EFFECTIVE   GKOUPS. 

waist,  the  fringe  and  pattern  all  finely  wrought  by  the 
artist's  chisel,  a  pen  in  the  fingers  of  one  hand,  and  writing- 
case  by  his  side.  Then  we  have  a  sculptured  representation 
of  a  seated  Chinaman  bearing  in  his  arms  a  vase,  while 
another  specimen  of  that  handiwork  is  by  his  side.  Beyond 
him  stands  the  Indian  warrior,  with  his  shield,  cimeter, 
and  barbaric  weapons  and  costume,  while  near  the  Persian 
figure  sits  an  Arab,  true  son  of  the  desert,  leaning  against 
a  camel-saddle  as  if  just  dismounted.  The  draperies  in  this 
group,  which,  as  may  be  imagined,  contribute  largely  to  the 
effectiveness  of  the  figures,  have  been  admirably  managed, 
especially  in  the  female  figure  throwing  aside  the  veil ;  and 
the  costumes  of  the  Arab  merchant  and  Persian  are  very 
gracefully  disposed.  The  sculptor,  John  Henry  Foley,  has 
achieved  an  ease  and  grace  in  grouping  his  work,  and  in 
the  management  of  fine,  continuous  outline,  that  charm  the 
eye  of  the  spectator  at  almost  any  point  from  which  the 
group  is  viewed. 

Next  comes  Africa,  wrought  by  William  Theed.  This 
also  is  a  strikingly  effective  group,  and  bxecuted  with  won- 
derful attention  to  details.  A  kneeling  camel,  fully  capar- 
isoned with  barbaric  harness,  —  a  faithfully  correct  repre- 
sentation of  the  animal,  —  bears  upon  his  back  an  Egyptian 
princess,  with  necklace,  head-dress,  and  sceptre,  Egyptian 
in  fashion;  her  right  hand  rests  upon  a  naked  Nubian,  who 
stands,  staff  in  hand,  by  her  side,  and  his  hand  resting  upon 
a  half  sand-covered  ancient  monument.  Upon  the  other 
side  is  seated  an  admirably  sculptured  figure  of  an  old 
Moorish  merchant  of  the  Barbary  States  ;  his  striped 
robe,  bale  of  goods,  wreathed  turban,  pipe,  and  the  cime- 
ter at  his  feet,  all  indicating  the  Moorish  trader.  To  the 
rear  stands,  leaning  upon  his  bow,  a  negro,  with  the 
shackles  of  slavery  broken  at  his  feet,  listening  to  instruc- 
tion from  the  genius  of  civilization. 

Next  comes  the  group  typifying  our  own  country, 
America.     This  is  represented  by  what  I  consider  to  be  the 


STATUE  GROUP  OF  AMERICA.  115 

finest  conception,  if  not  the  best  executed,  of  the  four 
groups,  and  have  since  learned  this  opinion  was  not  entirely 
influenced  by  national  pride,  as  it  is  also  held  by  many 
well-informed  English  critics. 

The  group  is  exceedingly  bold,  vigorous,  and  full  of  life, 
aptly  characterizing  the  progress,  vigor,  and  power  of  our 
nation.  The  principal  figure  is  that  of  a  female  representing 
the  New  World,  seated  upon  the  back  of  a  buffalo  rushing 
through  the  long  grass  of  the  prairie  ;  her  brow  is  grand, 
her  gaze  forward  ;  in  her  right  hand  she  bears  a  spear,  and 
upon  her  left  arm  hangs  a  shield,  upon  which  is  emblazoned 
the  eagle  of  America,  the  beaver  of  Canada,  and  other 
emblems.  Upon  one  side  of  the  buffalo,  with  hand  out- 
stretched as  if  directing  his  course,  stands  the  female  figure 
representing  the  United  States.  A  starry  baldric  extends 
from  right  shoulder  to  waist,  and  an  eagle's  plume  is  thrust 
in  the  band  about  her  brow,  upon  the  front  of  which  is  a 
star,  and  another  blazes  at  the  point  of  her  sceptre.  Upon 
the  other  side  stands,  with  face  turned  towards  the  United 
States,  Canada,  —  a  figure  in  furs  and  in  a  head-dress  of 
leaves  ;  and  at  her  feet  are  sculptured  ears  of  wheat  and  a 
pair  of  snow-shoes,  while  at  the  feet  of  the  United  States 
is  seen  the  almost  emptied  Indian  quiver,  and,  disturbed  by 
the  tramp  of  the  buffalo,  the  figure  of  a  rattlesnake  is  steal- 
ing awaj'  through  the  long  grass, 

A  seated  figure  with  head-dress  of  feathers  and  carved 
staff,  feather  belt,  and  panther-skin  robe,  is  designed  to  rep- 
resent Mexico.  South  America  is  represented  by  an  ele- 
gantl}'^  executed  figure,  a  sort  of  cross  between  a  ranchero 
and  prairie  hunter.  Ilis  broad  sombrero,  carbine,  lariat,  and 
Mexican  costume,  however,  show  him  to  be  designed  by  tlie 
artist  for  the  lialf-breed  Indian  and  Spaniard  of  farther  South, 
still  further  indicated  by  the  cattle-horn  and  South  American 
lily  at  his'  feet. 

All  the  figures  in  this  group  seem  instinct  with  life,  the 
expression  of  the  faces  is  superbly  rendered,  and  the  spec- 


116  ART   AND   POETRY. 

tator  feels  that  he  is  in  the  presence  of  a  creation  of  real 
genius  as  he  looks  upon  it. 

After  enjoying  these  wondrous  groups  of  sculpture 
which  have  arrested  our  attention,  we  turn  once  more  to  the 
monument.  Inside  the  ornamental  rail,  from  the  top  of  the 
pyramid  of  steps  or  grand  platform  to  which  we  have  as- 
cended, rises  a  second  or  lesser  flight,  and  upon  this  rests 
the  podium  of  the  monument,  or  sort  of  projecting  base, 
eleven  feet  in  height.  The  upper  and  lower  edges  of  the 
podium  are  of  granite,  the  intermediate  portion  of  it  being 
of  marble  ;  upon  it,  running  round  on  all  four  sides,  are 
sculptured,  in  alto-rilievo,  a  .series  of  historical  groups  of 
the  most  eminent  painters,  sculptors,  architects,  and  schol- 
ars of  ancient  and  modern  times.  They  are  one  hundred 
and  sixty-nine  in  number,  of  life-size,  and  the  four  sides  of 
the  base  are  devoted  severally  to  Painting,  Sculpture,  Archi- 
tecture, Poetiy  and  Music. 

Here,  for  instance,  on  the  eastern  front,  sits  the  figure  of 
Raphael,  gazing  thoughtfully  into  a  sketch-book ;  leaning 
upon  one  side  of  his  chair  is  Michael  Angelo ;  upon  the 
other  stands  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  Titian,  in  long  robe, 
stands,  palette  in  hand,  near  to  Paul  Veronese,  who  fondles 
a  favorite  greyhound  ;  while  the  kneeling  figures  of  Fra 
Angelico  and  others  make  up  the  group  in  that  vicinity. 
Another  contains  the  central  figure  of  Rubens  ;  around  him 
are  gathered  Rembrandt,  Holbein,  Hogarth,  Diirer,  and 
others  ;  and  a  third  group  shows  Murillo,  Poussin,  David, 
Claude,  &c. 

The  south  front  rilievos  are  beautiful.  The  central  seated 
figure  of  blind,  old  Homer  bows  his  head  down  to  the  lyre 
in  his  hands  ;  at  his  feet  on  one  side  sits  Dante,  looking  up 
as  to  its  magic  strains  ;  on  the  other,  Shakspeare,  with  hand 
to  thoughtful  brow,  seems  weaving  pleasing  fancies  or  won- 
drous thought.  Milton  stands  by  in  musing  attitude  ;  and 
old  Chaucer,  father  of  English  poetry,  rests,  cliin  on  hand, 
in  quiet  attention.    At  the  right  and  loft  stand  Goethe,  Han- 


PRODIGALITY    OF   DECOEATION.  117 

del,  Virgil,  Cervantes,  and  Moliere.  Besides  this  group  on 
the  south  part  are  others,  embracing  Beethoven,  Haydn, 
Mozart,  Auber,  Rossini,  Mendelssohn,  Weber,  and  others. 

On  the  north  front  are  the  figures  of  the  great  architects 
of  the  world,  the  sculptors  going  as  far  back  as  3090  b.  c, 
and  presenting  Cheops,  the  builder  of  the  largest  of  the 
Pyramids,  at  Gizeh,  and  Hiram  of  Tyre,  and  coming  down 
gradually  to  the  Grecian  and  Roman  architects,  and  finally 
to  Inigo  Jones,  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  and  Sir  Charles  Bar- 
ry, the  architect  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament.  The  north 
side  gives  us  the  sculptors  Phidias,  Praxiteles,  Cellini, 
Canova,  Thorwaldsen,  Flaxman,  and  many  others  of  both 
ancient  and  modern  renown. 

Above,  and  rising  from  this  richly  ornamented  podium, 
towers  the  lofty,  gorgeously  ornamented  Gothic  monument, 
to  the  height  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  from  the 
ground.  Upon  the  four  angles  of  this  podium  I  have  been 
describing  are  four  more  groups  of  statuary  in  marble,  rep- 
resenting the  industrial  arts  of  Manufacturing,  Agriculture, 
Engineering,  and  Commerce. 

These  groups  are  also  beautiful  in  conception,  and  I  give 
a  description  in  order  that  these  details  may  convey,  to  the 
American  reader,  some  idea  of  the  splendor  of  this  remark- 
able monument.  Engineering  is  represented  by  a  female 
figure  with  one  hand  resting  upon  a  piece  of  machinery  ;  in 
front  of  her  is  another  figure,  with  compasses  in  h^nd,  intent 
upon  a  plan  ;  then,  near  by,  kneels  another,  bearing  a  cog- 
wheel in  her  hand,  near  whom  is  seated  a  sculptured  repre- 
sentation of  a  navvy  or  English  engineering  laborer,  while 
near  about  are  scattered  sculptured  indications  of  the  engi- 
neer's art. 

In  the  group  representing  Agriculture  we  have  the  figure 
of  Agriculture  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  maize,  directing 
the  farmer  at  his  plough,  while  beside  her  sits  a  female  with 
lap  full  of  corn,  representing  the  rich  gifts  of  the  earth  to 
man,  and  near  by  stands  the  figure  of  a  shepherd  boy  in  his 
simple  costume,  with  his  sheep  grouped  about  him. 


118  ELABORATION    OV    ART. 

Commerce  is  represented  by  a  female  holding  a  cornu- 
copia, and  extending  her  hand  to  a  youth  bearing  the 
scales,  a  ledger,  and  purse,  emblems  of  mercantile  trade ; 
two  other  seated  figures,  one  representing  an  Eastern  mer- 
chant with  a  box  of  Oriental  jewels,  and  another  with  corn, 
the  staff  of  life,  complete  this  group. 

The  group  representing  Manufactures  is  another  admirably 
executed  one  in  all  its  details.  The  most  prominent  repre- 
sents the  genius  of  manufacture  holding  an  hour-glass  in 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  points  to  the  beehive, 
emblem  of  industry.  On  one  side  of  her  stands  a  smith  or 
machinist,  and  on  the  other  a  cloth-manufacturer  or  weaver, 
and  a  potter.  These  workmen  are  surrounded  by  articles 
of  their  manufacture,  all  faithfully  wrought  in  marble  by  the 
sculptor. 

We  now  come  to  the  pedestal  upon  which  the  statue  of 
Prince  Albert  is  seated.  This  is  beneath  a  magnificent 
Gothic  canopy,  or,  as  some  readers  will  better  understand 
it,  in  the  open  space  of  the  monument  proper,  which  reminds 
one  of  an  immense  and  magnificent  Gothic  spire  set  upon 
a  pedestal ;  the  open  space  being  what  in  a  New  England 
spire  would  be  called  the  belfry.  The  roof  or  vault  of  this 
open  space  above  the  head  of  the  statue  is  of  elegant  blue 
mosaic,  on  which  is  inlaid  Prince  Albert's  coat-of-arms. 

Notwithstanding  the  many  bronze  statues  already  men- 
tioned, there  are  numerous  others.  This  open  part  of  the 
spire,  or  monument,  is  formed  by  four  clusters  of  pillars,  and 
at  the  angles  of  each  of  these  columns,  above  the  groups  of 
statuarj'-  last  described,  are  eight  more  bronze  statues,  foui 
of  them  seven  and  a  half  feet,  and  four  eight  feet  four  in 
height,  representing  Astronomy,  with  head  bound  with  a 
fillet  of  stars,  and  holding  a  globe ;  Philosophy,  with  finger 
pointing  to  her  open  book  ;  Medicine,  with  cup  in  hand,  and 
the  emblematical  serpent  at  her  side  ;  Chemistry,  retort  in 
hand  ;  Rhetoric,  with  thoughtful  brow,  perusing  a  scroll  ; 
Geometry,    with  pair    of    compasses,    and    tablet    covered 


A   COSTLY    TRIBUTE.  119 

with  geometric  figures  ;  Physiology,  with  an  infant  on  her 
left  arm,  while  her  right  hand  points  to  the  microscope  ;  and 
lastly,  Geology,  a  figure  with  pick  in  hand,  that  has  un- 
earthed metaUic  ores  and  the  remains  of  a  pre-Adamite 
period. 

And  yet  this  is  not  all ;  for  above  the  canopy  in  what 
might  be  termed  the  ornamental  steeple  of  the  spire,  in 
niches,  are  eight  other  statues,  each  eight  feet  in  height, 
viz.  :  Faith,  with  cross  and  chalice  ;  Hope,  with  her  anchor  ; 
Charity,  bearing  a  burning  heart ;  Humility,  bearing  a  lighted 
taper  ;  Fortitude,  a  warlike  figure,  with  mace  and  shield  ; 
Temperance,  bearing  a  bridle ;  Justice,  with  sword  and 
scales ;  Prudence,  with  a  serpent.  Above  these  are  eight 
figures  of  angels,  also  of  gilt  bronze,  clustered  round  the 
base  of  the  cross  which  crowns  this  most  wonderful  and 
elaborate  monument. 

The  dedicatory  inscription  reads  thus  : 

QUEEN     VICTORIA     AND     THE     PEOPLE, 

TO    THE     MEMORY    OF    ALBERT,     PRINCE     CONSORT, 

AS     A    TRIBUTE    OF     GRATITUDE 

FOR     A     LIFE     DEVOTED     TO    THE     PUBLIC     GOOD. 

I  should  hardly  be  considered  an  American  chronicler  did 
I  not  finish  this  description  with  the  cost  of  the  work,  which 
is  stated  to  have  been  £120,000  sterling,  of  which  £50,000 
was  contributed  by  Parliament,  about  an  equal  amount  by 
private  subscriptions,  and  the  remainder  by  the  Queen 
herself. 

This  somewhat  minute  description  is  made  from  notes  of 
personal  observation  and  inquiry,  and  because  the  monument 
was  one  of  the  newest  and  most  attractive  wonders  of  the 
great  metropolis  at  the  time  of  the  author's  last  visit,  and 
one  that  he  had  not  previously  seen  described  in  detail. 


120  BOME. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

Ketitrning  home  after  a  first  visit  over  the  ocean  without 
having  seen  the  Eternal  City,  is  like  the  omission  of  the 
grandest  chapter  of  a  great  book,  a  famous  dish  at  a  feast, 
the  aroma  of  which  reaches  your  nostrils  just  as  you  are 
leaving  the  board,  the  one  more  addition  to  his  possessions 
which  the  capitalist  covets  to  make  him  sleep  secure,  the 
one  campaign  which  in  results  it  seems  would  have  over- 
shadowed all  the  rest.  You  are  enthusiastic  to  your  friends 
about  York  Minster,  but  are  silent  when  questioned  of  St. 
Peter's  ;  you  have  stood  on  the  battlefield  of  Waterloo,  but 
have  not  walked  over  the  pathway  trodden  by  Julius  Caesar 
and  Pompey  ;  you  have  shuddered  at  the  cruel  dungeons 
contrived  by  the  Council  of  Ten  in  Venice,  but  what  are 
they  to  the  pit  in  which  Jugurtha  was  starved,  and  from 
which  Peter  was  delivei*ed  by  the  angel.  You  may  talk  of 
the  Cathedral  of  Milan,  the  glories  of  the  Alps,  the  castles 
of  the  Rhine,  but  have  you  ever  stood  in  the  arena  of  the 
Colosseum,  that  one  great  monument  which  rises  in  the 
mind's  eye  and  in  imagination's  vision  whenever  Rome  is 
mentioned  ? 

Bright,  enjoyable,  and  interesting  as  have  been  our  inter- 
views with  history,  face  to  face  with  the  mementos  of  the 
past,  if  we  have  not  seen  old  Rome,  it  seems  to  have  been 
but  the  modern  past  and  not  that  classic  past  which  tinges 
our  literature,  was  familiar  to  us  in  youth,  and  joins  so 
closely  upon  mythological  story  as  to  possess  an  indescrib- 
able charm  to  the  scholar,  a  world  of  romantic  interest  to 
the  poet,  and  an  inexhaustible  field  for  the  student. 

And  yet  Rome  itself  to  the  hungry  traveller  must  appear 
but  modern,  as  he  contemplates  the  Sphynx,  the  Egyptian 


THE    CITY    OF    OUR    DREAMS.  121 

pyramids,  and  those  ancient  monuments  along  the  brown 
flood  of  the  Nile,  monuments  that  had  fallen  to  decay 

"  Ere  Romulus  and  Ecmus  had  been  suckled." 

But  Rome  !  Rome  —  in  our  earliest  days,  it  was  common  in 
school-boys'  mouths.  The  speeches  that  had  their  birth  in 
the  Roman  Forum  were  in  our  youth  piped  in  shrill  voices 
from  the  platform  of  the  country  school-house  ;  the  deeds  of 
Roman  generals  recalled  by  modern  captains,  the  commen- 
taries of  one  of  her  greatest  emperors  conned  witli  care  by 
modern  monarchs,  and  Gaul's  greatest  soldier,  who  shook 
all  Europe  with  the  thunder  of  his  tread,  proudly  claimed 
himself  to  be  the  modern  prototype  of  him  who  raised  Rome 
to  its  highest  pinnacle  of  military  power  and  greatness,  to 
be  the  acknowledged  mistress  of  the  world. 

Rome  !  The  field  has  been  ploughed  by  every  tourist ;  it 
has  been  turned,  delved,  and  re-turned  by  every  antiquary ; 
it  has  been  despoiled  of  its  treasures  by  ancient  vandals  and 
modern  virtuosos  and  curiosity  hunters  ;  poets  and  senti- 
mentalists have  made  every  foot  of  its  soil  familiar  ;  paint- 
ers and  sculptors  have  produced  and  reproduced  every 
wondrous  picture  or  glorious  creation  of  the  sculptor's  art 
till  they  greet  us  in  the  window  of  the  cheapest  print-shop, 
or  claim  our  pity  in  vile  plaster  or  the  ornamentation  of 
household  utensils. 

The  most  wondrous  treasures  of  European  museums  are 
spoils  from  her  very  ruins.  The  "  Sleeping  Faun "  at 
Munich,  that  was  hurled  down  from  the  tomb  of  Hadrian  ; 
the  "  Dancing  Faun  "  at  Florence  ;  the  "  Farnese  Hercu- 
les," that  stands  leaning  on  his  club  and  is  a  model  of 
mighty  strength,  now  in  the  museum  at  Naples  ;  the  "  Venus 
de  Medici,"  the  exquisite  symmetry  and  grace  of  which  have 
made  it  the  standard  of  excellence  for  the  female  form  ; 
statues,  busts,  marbles,  vases,  fragments  of  the  temples, 
altars,  and  tombs,  are  but  the  splinters  of  the  very  bones  of 
the  once  mighty  queen  city  of  the  world. 


122  riEST    SENSATIONS. 

Then  the  domestic  life,  the  implements,  manners  and  cus- 
toms, amusements,  games,  and  occupations  of  ancient  Rome 
have  been  rendered  familiar  to  us  as  those  of  our  own 
ancestors,  thanks  to  poets,  historians,  and  artists,  who  never 
tire  of  going  over  the  prolific  field  that  still  yields  fruit, 
and  which  seems  to  possess  equal  interest  to  each  new  gen- 
eration that  comes  upon  the  stage  of  life. 

I  had  read  much  of  the  sensations  of  travellers  on  ap- 
proaching Rome  in  their  rides  over  the  Campagna,  the  deso- 
late and  pestilential  plain  that  surrounds  it,  the  vast  expanse 
out  upon  which  the  great  city  overflowed  itself,  and  which, 
was  once  the  dwelling-place  of  senators  and  nobles,  or  was 
the  site  of  old  Etrurian  towns  that  had  risen  to  their  prime, 
declined,  and  sunk  into  decay,  ere  Rome  had  risen  to  be  an 
empire.  I  had  read  so  much  of  the  approach  over  this  deso- 
late plain,  that  I  was  getting  myself  prepared  for  it  some- 
what in  the  manner  that  visitors  to  Niagara  Falls  do  who 
have  read  the  romantic  travellers'  tales  of  the  roar  of  the 
cataract  being  heard  ten  miles  away,  and  who  are  continually 
putting  their  heads  from  the  windows  of  the  railway  car- 
riage to  listen  as  they  approach  that  locality,  and  have  their 
faith  in  human  veracity  so  rudely  shaken  by  finding  the  very 
village  of  Niagara  Falls,  whose  casements  they  expected  to 
find  rattling  with  a  thunderous  concussion,  as  quiet  as  a  New 
England  village  of  a  Sunday  morning. 

Travellers  have  told  how,  when  speeding  over  the  Cam- 
pagna at  early  morn,  they  have  beheld  through  the  then 
dissolving  mist  the  great  dome  of  St.  Peter's  suddenly  lift 
its  swelling  proportions  upon  the  line  of  the  hoi-izon,  or 
gleaming  in  the  ruddy  rays  of  the  setting  sun  like  a  huge 
balloon  just  ready  to  rise  into  the  clouds  ;  and  that  on  the 
edge  of  the  Campagna  on  one  side  rose  the  hills  and  ruins, 
all  that  is  left  of  old  Rome,  and  on  the  other  the  spires  and 
churches  of  modern  Rome  ;  the  great  Capitol  between  an 
apt  dividing  line  separating  the  papal  church  and  the  pagan 
palace,  the  home  of  the  popes  and  the  city  of  the  Csesars. 


REALITY    VS.    ROMANCE.  123 

All  this  poetic  approach  through  the  desolate  Campagna, 
with  here  and  there  the  ruin  of  a  crumbling  and  forgotten 
palace,  or  villa,  and  the  event  of  the  postilion  stopping  his 
horses  and  pointing  towards  the  distant  city  with  its  sharp 
outlines  against  the  clear  Italian  sk}^,  as  he  shouted  "  Ecco 
Roma  "  to  the  wearied  and  expectant  ti'aveller,  was  lost 
upon  me,  who  was  whirled  into  a  modern  railway  station 
amid  smoke,  noise,  dust,  and  confusion,  and  packed  off  in  a 
very  modern-looking  omnibus  for  the  Hotel  Constanzzi. 

We  rattle  through  what  seems  to  be  the  outskirts  of  an 
Italian  city,  past  what  appears  to  be  an  abandoned  burned 
district  —  old  Roman  ruins  —  into  an  Italian  city,  modern 
Rome,  with  tall,  yellow-washed  looking  houses,  with  cobblers, 
green-grocers,  and  fruiterers,  in  little  cavern-like  holes  of 
stores  in  the  lower  story,  through  a  street  with  high  walls 
that  encircle  gardens,  turn  in  beneath  an  archway  and  into 
the  grand  courtyard  of  a  modern  Italian  hotel,  where  we 
were  greeted  in  tolerable  English  and  better  French,  and 
found  ourselves  welcome  to  Rome. 

However  much  of  poetry  or  romance  there  may  be  in 
man's  nature,  it  succumbs  at  once  to  the  pleadings  of 
hunger,  and,  next  to  the  pleasure  of  appeasing  that,  is  the 
comfort  of  a  good  bath,  a  luxury  which  the  ancient  Romans 
thoroughly  understood,  and  to  them  we  owe  to-day  the 
enjoyment  of  the  purest  and  best  water  in  Italy,  a  luxury 
indeed  to  us  Americans,  who  have  turned  with  disgust  from 
the  brackish  beverage  of  Venice,  or  the  lime-rock-charged 
purgative  of  Paris. 

What  sight  shall  we  go  to  see  first  ?  We  turn  in  the 
guide-book,  first  to  churches.  A  most  appalling-  list  spreads 
out  upon  the  pages  of  the  volume  ;  a  friend  tells  us  there 
are  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  of  them,  one  for  every  day 
of  the  year.  We  take  up  Murray's  Guide-Book  of  Rome  ; 
it  is  a  formidable  volume  of  four  hundred  and  eighty  pages  ; 
and  even  condensed  Baedeker  gives  Rome  three  hundred 
and  seventy  pages.     The  enthusiastic  visitor  who  conies  fur 


124  SIGHT-SEEING   IN   EOME. 

a  two  or  three  weeks',  visit  to  the  Eternal  City  is  in  despair 
at  the  prospect  before  him,  knowing  that  the  bare  impres- 
sions and  mere  taste  that  he  shall  get  in  that  brief  period 
will  bnt  provoke  a  fiercer  appetite,  which  would  require  a 
three  months'  instead  of  a  three  weeks'  visit  to  appease. 

But,  like  all  Americans  who  have  too  much  to  accom- 
plish in  too  brief  a  period,  we  set  about  the  best  method 
of  doing  it,  and  call  in  an  excellent  and  expert  faZe/  de  j^ldce, 
who  thoroughl}'  knows  old  Rome,  and  who  had  historical 
knowledge,  doubtless  leai-ned  in  his  occupation  as  guide,  at 
his  tongue's  end,  and  was  correct,  too,  as  we  found  by  fre- 
quent tests.  To  Antonio  Amadio,  guide,  we  communicate 
our  wishes,  and  he  immediately  plans  or  submits  a  plan,  for 
he  has  had  to  do  it  a  hundred  times  for  American  travellers, 
for  sight-seeing  for  one,  two,  or  twenty  days,  as  we  may 
please  to  order  ;  and  now  whither  shall  we  go  first  ?  To 
the  Colosseum,  St.  Peter's,  Palace  of  the  Ceesars,  Catacombs, 
Vatican  ?  There  is  such  an  embarras  de  richesses  that  we 
are  glad  that  the  proposition  is  made  to  see  a  few  sights 
well,  and  to  commence  with  St.  Peter's,  which  meets  with 
general  approbation. 

Placed  in  our  open  barouche,  we  roll  out  of  the  court^^ard 
of  the  hotel,  and  down  past  our  first  sight  in  Eomo,  which 
w^as  a  fountain  on  the  Piazza  Barberiui.  Four  dolphins  with 
upturned  tails  held  a  big  sea-shell,  in  which  was  seated  a 
Triton  who  was  blowing  upwards,  from  a  horn-shaped  shell, 
a  slender  stream  of  water.  We  wind  through  narrow  streets, 
with  tall  buildings  and  cavernous  shops,  where  fruit,  tin,  and 
copper  ware,  garlic,  and  cheap  Italian  merchandise  are 
vended,  and  at  the  doors  of  some  of  which  an  unappetizing 
compound  is  being  fried  in  hot  grease  ;  meet  occasionally  a 
sandalled  friar,  robed  either  in  brown  or  black  or  gray,  ac- 
cording to  the  uniform  of  the  order  with  which  he  is  con- 
nected ;  we  pass  students  in  uniform  of  cloak  or  colored 
gown  or  shovel  hat,  and  now  and  then  a  pair  of  Italian 
soldiers,  whom   the   monks  call   devil's  children.      We  soon 


TOMB    OF    HADRIAN.  125 

whirl  into  more  of  an  open  space,  and  a  great  circular 
structure  greets  our  gaze,  which  we  at  once  welcome  as  an 
old  acquaintance  with  whose  counterfeit  presentment  we 
have  long  been  familiar,  —  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  or,  to 
speak  more  correctly,  the  Tomb  of  Hadrian. 

Before  us  rises  this  great  cylindrical  monument  surmounted 
with  the  bronze  figure  of  the  archangel  Michael,  with  his 
flaming  sword,  in  memory  of  one  of  those  pretended  miracles 
which  the  priests  of  the  Church  of  Rome  have  worked  so 
liberally,  and  have  erected  monuments  and  painted  pictures 
of  so  plentifully  all  over  Europe,  that  it  seems  as  if  the 
Church  desired,  as  perhaps  it  did,  to  give  the  impression  that 
miracles  were  an  overy-day  affair  with  them,  and  no  particu- 
lar difficulty  was  to  be  encountered  in  performing  them. 

But  we  are  about  to  cross  the  Tiber,  and  we  do  cross  it 
over  the  bridge  supported  by  the  five  arches  raised  by  the 
Emperor  Hadrian  in  the  year  136  to  connect  his  tomb  with 
the  then  greater  part  of  the  city  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river.  Ten  great  statues,  eleven  feet  high,  of  angels,  are 
on  either  side,  and  the  entrance  to  it  guarded  by  statues 
of  Peter  and  Paul.  But  the  castle  or  tomb  itself  is  now 
simply  a  huge  cylinder  of  travertine,  (it  is  well  you  should 
know  that  travertine,  which  the  guide-books  mention  so 
frequently,  is  a  species  of  white  concretionary  limestone 
abundant  in  Italy,  and  which  was  freely  used  by  the  Romans 
for  building  purposes,)  the  travertine  from  which  the  splen- 
did marble  sheathing  of  Hadrian's  time  has  been  stripped. 
A  huge  cylinder,  resting  upon  a  square  base  or  support  — 
yes,  huge,  for  this  great  square  block  upon  which  the  big 
stone  bandbox  rested  had  a  frontage  of  two  hundred  and 
forty-seven  feet,  and  the  circumference  of  this  big  mausoleum 
is  nine  hundred  and  eighty-seven  feet.  Think  over  these 
dimensions  as  they  are  now,  and  what  a  grand  building  is 
this,  even  in  its  despoiled  condition,  simply  a  round  stone 
structure  with  an  ornamental  band  like  the  architectural 
base  of  a  coronet  near  its  summit,  from  which  rises  a  smaller 


126  A   MAGNIFICENT   MAUSOLEUM. 

structure  fronting'  towards  the  bridge,  bearing'  a  clock,  and 
in  turn  surmounted  by  the  modern  bronze  statue  of  the 
angel  before  mentioned.  The  tomb  of  Hadrian  undoubtedly 
owes  its  preservation  to  this  day  to  its  cylindrical  form, 
rendering  it  more  able  to  resist  both  the  assaults  of  time  and 
vandalism  of  men. 

As  it  now  is,  it  is  but  the  mere  suggestion  of  what  it 
must  have  been  in  its  prime  as  the  magnificent  tomb  of  the 
emperors,  for  it  held  the  imperial  dust  of  Hadrian,  Antoni- 
nus, Marcus  Aurelius,  Commodus,  Caracalla,  and  many 
others,  and  was,  if  we  may  judge  from  descriptions  banded 
down  to  us,  a  mausoleum  worthy  of  a  line  of  monarchs.  In 
its  prime  the  rough  travertine  was  sheathed  in  Parian 
marble,  the  great  square  base  was  intersected  with  the  Doric 
marble  pillars,  between  which  were  marble  tablets  for  epi- 
taphs ;  then  came  the  great  circular  central  tower,  brilliant 
in  white  marble,  and  elegant  with  fluted  Ionic  columns. 
Above  this  rose  another  story,  surrounded  by  Corinthian 
columns,  between  which  were  the  choicest  works  of  statuary 
from  the  sculptor's  chisel ;  and  on  the  roof  were  grand  sculp- 
tures of  men  and  horses.  A  magnificent  prominent  monu- 
ment, which  has  doubtless  successfully  performed  the  office 
its  projector  had  in  view,  —  the  handing  of  his  name  down 
to  posterity. 

But  how  vain  man's  efforts  against  the  march  of  time  ! 
Three  centuries  swept  past,  and  the  tramp  of  the  soldier, 
and  thunder  of  the  legions,  and  braying  of  the  trumpet, 
shook  the  very  dust  of  the  old  emperors  in  their  funeral 
urns,  as  one  of  their  more  modern  successors  turned  it  into 
a  fortress,  and  Goth,  Greek,  and  Roman  have  held  it ;  its 
splendid  statues  have  been  hiyled  down  upon  invading 
forces,  its  sheathing  of  rich  marble  torn  away  for  new  mon- 
uments or  modern  Christian  churches  ;  even  the  porphyry 
sarcophagus  that  held  the  ashes  of  a  pagan  emperor,  re- 
moved by  a  modern  Roman  pontiff  (Innocent  II.)  for  his 
own   tomb,  and  naught   of  that   remains   now  but   a   mere 


A   WRECK   OF    THE    PAST.  127 

fragment,  which,  after  having  served  as  tomb  for  another 
pontiff,  Otho  II.,  for  seven  centuries,  is  now  the  baptismal 
font  at  St.  Peter's.  A  history  indeed  for  the  casket  that 
was  prepared  for  Hadrian's  remains,  and  which  has  held 
pagan  and  pope  through  so  many  centuries,  that  its  last 
remaining  fragment  should  now  be  the  receptacle  of  the 
element  for  Christian  baptism !  The  sepulchral  inscribed 
marbles  were  cut  up  to  decorate  a  Christian  church  as  late 
as  the  sixteenth  century,  and  the  great  monument  of  kings 
and  emperors  has  been  reduced  by  sieges,  spoliations,  van- 
dalism, and  time  to  a  mighty  wreck  of  its  former*  self,  and, 
like  many  ruins  of  old  Rome,  grand  even  as  a  wreck. 

We  may  stop  at  the  entrance,  where  some  of  the  sohliers 
who  now  occupy  it  as  barracks  are  unpacking  a  wagon-load 
of  round,  black-looking  bread,  and,  if  we  have  a  permit, 
look  in  and  see  what  little  is  to  be  seen. 

A  great  passage  between  the  enormously  thick  walls 
winds  round  between  them,  and  by  gentle  ascent  carries 
you  to  the  summit,  or  to  the  great  chamber  that  Hadrian 
prepared  for  his  last  I'esting-place.  This  is  in  the  centre  of 
the  building,  and  the  niche  occupied  by  his  sepulchral  urn 
and  those  of  his  successors  is  pointed  out  to  you.  You  are 
surprised  at  the  nicety  of  the  stone  work  here,  its  exact 
fitting,  and  the  unmistakable  evidences,  from  the  bolt-holes 
in  the  work,  that  the  w^alls  of  these  now  gloomy  passages 
were  once  sheathed  with  the  richest  marbles.  The  history 
of  this  castle  or  tomb  would  in  itself  fill  a  volume,  and  make 
a  record  of  fiendish  barbarities  which  even  the  most  cruel 
African  cannibal  can  hardly  rival.  Here  will  you  look  into 
Benvenuto  Cellini's  cell,  who  was  confined  here  in  1537, 
when  the  fortress  was  a  state  prison  of  the  papal  govern- 
ment, and  in  endeavoring  to  escape  from  which  he  broke 
his  leg. 

Here  it  is  the  Cenci  family  were  incarcerated,  and  the 
celebrated  Beatrice  Cenci,  whose  terrible  tortures  for  a  whole 
year,  in  the  vain  efi'ort  to  make  her  confess  to  a  lie,  and 


128  ST.  petee's. 

whose  murder  by  Uie  papal  authorities,  is  a  story  that  even 
to  this  day,  though  nearly  four  centuries  old,  excites  the 
liveliest  indignation  against  those  beings  wearing  human 
form,  who  acted  more  like  cruel  fieuds  from  the  lowest 
depths  of  Satan's  kingdom.  But  here  are  the  cells,  niches 
quarried  out  of  a  mountain  of  rock  ;  and  here,  out  of  a 
pleasant  sort  of  library-room,  or  a  great  ornamental  hall, 
which  appears  as  a  repository  of  archives,  is  another,  where 
a  cardinal  was  strangled  by  order  of  Pope  Pius  IV.  We 
look  into  other  cells  midway  up,  and  are  shown  great  jars, 
which  ar*  said  to  have  formerly  held  oil  heated  to  throw 
down  upon  the  heads  of  besiegers,  but  more  probably  held 
a  store  of  that  commodity  and  wine  for  the  use  of  the  be- 
sieged. But  we  tire  of  "  man's  inhumanity  to  man;  "  we 
mount  to  the  top,  and  have  a  maguificent  sight  of  St. 
Peter's  and  the  surrounding  country,  an  extended  and  trans- 
porting view  spread  out  for  miles  on  every  side  in  the  clear, 
beautiful  Italian  atmosphere. 

We  resume  our  carriages  and  ride  on,  and  in  a  short 
time  enter  between  the  points  of  the  great  extended  arms, 
as  it  were,  of  St.  Peter's, — the  central  point,  the  church 
of  the  head  of  the  Roman  Church,  the  wonder  of  archi- 
tecture upon  which  untold  sums  of  gold  and  three  cen- 
turies of  labor  have  been  lavished.  A  gigantic  modei'n 
ecclesiastical  monument,  rich  in  works  of  modern  sculpture 
and  art,  and  beautified  with  those  wrenched  from  old  pagan 
temples  that  have  rung  with  the  tramp  of  Caesar's  legions, 
or  from  altars  that  have  been  wreathed  in  the  smoke  of 
pagan  sacrifices  to  the  gods. 

We  pause  just  inside  the  grand  piazza,  or  great  open 
space  in  front  of  the  huge  edifice,  to  try  and  get  a  proper 
idea  of  its  vastness,  which  is  almost  impossible  in  a  first 
visit.  On  each  side  of  us  extend  from  the  church  those 
well-known  great  semicircular  porticos,  or  pavilions,  so 
familiar  to  every  one  who  has  ever  seen  a  picture  of  the 
building.     These   porticos,   which  join  the  front  or  facade 


CHE    GRAND    PAVILIONS.  129 

of  the  church,  converge  as  they  extend  from  it,  and  are 
each  in  the  form  of  an  immense  sickle,  the  handle  part  being 
next  the  church,  and  the  two  points  the  extremities,  and 
between  these  two  points  we  have  just  passed. 

We  descended  from  our  carriages,  and  the  longer  we 
gazed  upon  the  great  work,  the  more  its  grandeur  and 
beauty  grew  upon  us.  From  the  two  points  of  the  colon- 
nades, or  sickles,  to  the  base  of  the  broad  steps  that  lead 
up  to  the  church  is  a  distance  of  about  a  thousand  feet,  a 
distance  you  can  hardly  conceive  to  be  so  great  until  you 
pace  it,  and  one  you  will  hardly  care  to  test  by  pacing,  if  the 
day  be  warm  and  cloudless.  But  this  deception  is  the  first 
surprise  which  the  vast  size  of  everything  about  you  causes, 
but  which  you  soon  become  accustomed  to. 

The  great  porticos  themselves,  which  at  first  seem  a  low 
row  of  pillars  inclosing  the  area,  you  discover  are  supported 
by  pillars  sixty-four  feet  liigh  and  twenty  feet  apart,  there 
being  two  hujidred  and  eighty-four  of  these  pillai's,  and  each 
portico  being  fifty-five  feet  wide.  The  top  of  these  grand 
pavilions  is  crowned  with  an  army  of  saints,  for  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty-two  figures,  each  twelve  feet  in  height,  look 
down  upon  the  spectator,  and  the  widest  breadth  between 
these  two  great  encircling  arms  of  the  church  is  five  hun- 
dred and  eighty-seven  feet.  It  is  a  grand  inclosure  to 
screen  the  approach  to  the  church  from  any  surrounding 
objects  that  might  serve  to  distract  the  view-,  and  the  eye 
runs  with  delight  over  the  graceful  lines  of  beauty,  the  ele- 
gant pillars,  the  serried  array  of  statues,  the  great  facade 
of  one  of  the  grandest  creations  in  architecture,  and  the 
most  wonderful  structure  of  modern  times. 

In  the  centre  of  the  great  inclosure,  and  relieving  it  from 
the  otherwise  naked  appearance  it  might  possess,  rises  the 
tall  red  granite  obelisk  that  formerly  stood  in  the  circus  of 
Nero,  where  it  was  placed  by  the  emperor  Caligula.  It  was 
the  only  obelisk  in  old  Rome  that  was  never  thrown  down, 
and  which,  after  fifteen  hundred  years,  was  removed  from 
9 


130  THE    GREAT    OBELISK.  » 

the  spot  where  pagan  hands  had  roared  it,  now  covered  by 
a  portion  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  to  its  present  position.  Its 
removal  was  considered  little  else  than  a  miracle,  as  the 
diflSculties  to  be  overcome  by  scientific  and  engineering  skill 
in  raising  it  from  its  old  pedestal  and  conveying  it  without 
injury  to  this  spot  seemed  almost  insurmountable. 

The  great  obelisk  weighed  about  a  million  pounds  ;  and 
Pope  Sixtus  V.  required  the  architect  Fontana  to  move  it 
safely  to  this  square,  and  place  it  upright  upon  the  founda- 
tion that  had  been  prepared  for  it.  The  story  has  oft  been 
told  to  old  and  young  ;  the  anxiety  of  the  architect  in  the 
great  work  which  was  to  make  or  undo  him  quite  ;  the 
prayers  and  blessings  of  the  church  for  the  work  ;  and  how 
nine  hundred  men,  tugging  at  thirty-nine  windlasses,  at  last 
raised  from  its  foundations  this  monument  of  the  bloodiest 
and  most  cruel  of  tyrants,  till  it  swung  clear  of  obstructions 
and  in  the  air,  and  was  afterwards  slowly  lowered  down 
upon  great  rollers  prepared  for  it,  and  by  their  means  rolled 
to  this  spot,  to  be  raised  to  the  foundation  prepared  for  it. 
Here,  forty-six  windlasses,  eight  hundred  men,  and  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  horses  tugged  at  the  ropes,  and  raised  the  huge 
mass  into  position  ;  and  here  it  was  that,  as  the  story  is 
told,  just  as  the  great  obelisk  was  to  have  been  placed  upon 
its  pedestal,  the  ropes,  stretching  by  its  great  weight,  pre- 
vented the  accomplishment  of  the  architect's  plans,  who  had 
not  calculated  upon  this,  and  the  vast  pillar  remained  in  the 
air,  while  he  knew  not  what  to  do  to  shorten  the  ropes,  till 
a  sailor  in  the  crowd  cried  out,  despite  the  edict  that  silence 
should  be  preserved  and  none  should  speak  aloud,  "  Wet 
the  ropes  !  Wet  the  ropes  !  "  which  was  done,  and  the 
shrinking  caused  by  their  drenching  enabled  him  to  carry 
out  his  calculations  successfully. 

But  there  it  stands,  a  graceful  granite  needle,  rising  one 
hundred  and  thirty-two  feet  in  height,  and  surrounded  at  its 
base  by  a  double  circle  of  granite  posts.  On  either  side 
the  two  handsome  fountains,  forty-three  feet  in  height,  throw 


THE    VESTIBULE.  131 

their  sparkling  water-jets  up  thirty  or  forty  feet  into  the 
air,  to  tumble  back,  in  broad  sheets,  into  granite  basins ; 
and  one  is  reminded  of  the  plan,  on  a  lesser  scale,  of  the 
obelisk  and  fountains  at  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  in  Paris. 
It  is  something  to  think  of  that  you  look,  as  you  gaze  upon 
this  obelisk,  upon  a  shaft  brought  from  Heliopolis  by  Calig- 
ula, in  a  ship  described  by  Pliny  as  "  nearly  as  long  as  the 
left  side  of  the  port  of  Ostia." 

But  let  us  turn  our  attention  to  St.  Peter's,  Like  most 
visitors  who  have  advanced  thus  far  into  the  square,  I  was 
disappointed  by  having  the  noble  proportions  of  the  huge 
dome  cut  off  by  the  great  fai^ade  of  the  building,  which  is 
three  hundred  and  fifty-seven  feet  long  and  one  hundred 
and  forty-four  feet  in  height.  Above  this  is  a  balustrade 
with  statues  of  Christ  and  the  Apostles,  apparently  of  life- 
size,  but  which  are  actually  eighteen  feet  in  height.  After 
ascending  the  broad  flight  of  marble  steps,  we  find  ourselves 
in  the  vestibule,  which  is  really  a  grand  structure  in  itself, 
being  four  hundred  and  sixty-eight  feet  long,  sixty-six  feet 
high,  and  fifty  feet  wide.  A  fine  view  or  vista  is  had  by 
standing  in  its  centre  and  looking  either  side  of  you,  the 
view  being  terminated  on  one  side  by  an  equestrian  statue 
of  Constantine,  and  on  the  other  by  one  of  Charlemagne, 
neither  of  which  struck  me  as  remarkable  pieces  of  sculp- 
ture. 

But  there,  in  the  walls,  between  the  doors,  among  other 
inscriptions,  is  the  Latin  epitaph  on  Adrian  L,  who  was 
pope  from  7t2  to  795,  by  Charlemagne,  in  blank  verse,  the 
first  few  words  of  which,  translated,  read: 

THE     FATHER     OF    THE    CHURCH,     THE     ORNAMENT    OF 
ROME,     THE     FAMOUS     WRITER,     THE     BLESSED     POPE, 
RESTS     IN     PEACE.       GOD     WAS     HIS     LIFE,     LOVE 
WAS     HIS     LAW,     CHRIST     WAS     HIS     GLORY,     &C. 

But  we  hardly  pause  to  examine  the  great  bronze  central 
door,  which  belonged  to  the  old  church  of  1431,  with  its 
bas-reliefs  of  saints  and  martyrdoms,  or  the  holy  door  that 


132  FIRST    VIEAV    OF    THE    INTERIOR. 

is  opened  but  four  times  each  hundred  years,  for  the  great 
loaded  heavy  leathern  curtain  is  all  that  is  between  us  and 
the  interior  of  this  majestic  temple.  This  great  leather- 
bound  curtain,  which  hangs  before  the  ever  open  door  of  the 
great  cathedrals  of  Europe,  is  not  always  an  agreeable  ob- 
struction to  pass,  loaded  as  its  edges  often  are  with  ac- 
cumulated dirt  from  its  contact  with  thousands  of  greasy 
hands  that  have  thrust  it  aside,  and  it  is  not,  therefore, 
pleasant  or  agreeable  to  have  it  flap  heavily  back  into  your 
face,  as  it  is  likely  to  do  if  one  follows  too  closely  those 
who  precede  him. 

But  we  push  the  heavy  screen  aside,  not  without  a  quick- 
ened beat  of  the  heart,  and  step  within  the  wondrous  tem- 
ple that  it  conceals,  into  an  atmosphere  that  is  ever  its  own, 
and  into  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  of  wondrous  architecture 
that  is  fairly  bewildering. 

From  a  glance  at  the  polished  marble  pavement  under 
foot,  the  eye  at  once  glides  away  along  the  great  central 
nave,  a  surpassingly  grand  vista,  eighty-nine  feet  broad, 
and  more  than  five  hundred  feet  in  length,  and  one  hundred 
and  fifty-two  feet  high.  On  each  side,  massive  Corinthian 
pillars  rise,  pilasters  crowned  with  elegant  capitals,  arches 
leading  into  lofty  side-chapels,  over  which  are  recumbent 
angels,  the  great,  vaulted  semicircular  roof,  enriched  with 
sunken  panels,  ornaments,  sculptures,  bas-reliefs,  and  mo- 
saics —  a  prodigality  of  decoration  in  every  direction. 

But  then,  the  vastness  of  the  interior  is  what  astonishes 
the  visitor.  Distant  people  appear  dwarfed  to  the  size  of 
children.  You  go  up  to  the  fluting  of  a  pillar,  and  find  it 
to  be  a  niche  big  enough  for  a  life-size  statue.  You  ap- 
proach the  infantile  cherubs  that  support  the  shell  of  holy 
water  near  the  entrance,  and  find  them  to  be  children*  six 
feet  in  height,  and  begin  then  to  educate  the  eye  to  the 
vastness  of  the  scene  before  you,  beautiful  in  all  its  harmo- 
nious proportions.  Glancing  down  at  the  pavement,  we  find 
marked  the   comparative  length  of  St.  Peter's  with  other 


BENEATH  THE  GREAT  DOME.  133 

noted  Christian  churches.  Thus,  St.  Peter's  is  six  hundred 
and  thirteen  feet ;  St.  Paul's,  London,  five  hundred  and 
twenty ;  Milan  Cathedral,  four  hundred  and  forty-three  ;  St. 
Sophia,  three  hundred  and  sixty.  Another  interesting 
record  in  the  marble  floor  is  a  round  slab  of  porphyry, 
where  emperors  stood  when  crowned  by  the  Pope. 

Almost  the  first  walk  one  takes,  after  the  surprise  and 
wonderment  of  his  first  eye-sweep  of  the  nave  is  over,  is 
down  towards  a  row  of  faintly  glittering  lamps,  that  the 
visitor  sees  before  him  upon  a  circular  balcony  of  marble, 
and  which  appear  in  the  distance  like  a  large  wreath  of  yel- 
low roses.  These  lamps  are  in  clusters  of  three,  are  one 
hundred  and  twelve  in  number,  and  are  kept  constantly 
burning.  They  surround  the  sanctum  sanctorum  of  the 
great  church  —  the  tomb  of  St.  Peter.  The  visitor  finds 
on  reaching  them  that  the  balustrade  that  holds  them  is 
placed  above  two  flights  of  marble  steps  that  lead  down  to 
the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  in  which  you  are  required  to  be- 
lieve repose  the  mortal  remains  of  the  apostle,  and  before 
which,  in  papal  robes  and  in  the  attitude  of  pi'ayer,  is  a 
wonderfully  executed  marble  statue  of  Pius  VI. 

Beneath  the  great  dome,  you  look  up,  and  almost  foi-get 
that  it  is  a  creation  of  man's  art,  or  that  there  should  be 
any  desire  to  look  up,  any  more  than  to  bend  one's  gaze 
upon  the  sky  which  we  know  is  ever  above.  Feet  and 
inches  seem  to  convey  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  proportions 
of  this  grand  pile.  The  height  from  the  pavement  on  which 
I  stood  to  the  top  of  the  gorgeously  decorated  dome,  or 
base  of  the  lantern  or  little  cupola  that  surmounted  the 
dome,  was  nearly  twice  as  high  as  Bunker  Hill  Monument. 
The  four  great  pillars  that,  you  observe,  support  it  are  over 
two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  circumference,  and  the  interior 
of  this  magnificent  globe  is  one  hundred  and  thirty-nine  feet 
in  circumference  on  the  inside  ;  and  we  afterwards  find  that 
there  is  another  entire  cupola  outside,  as  we  ascend  it,  and 
that  there  are  commodious  stairways  and  rooms  between 
the  two  domes. 


134  VAST    PROPORTIONS. 

So  while  we  stand,  and  calculate  that  four  or  five  domes  like 
Boston  State-House  might  be  put  in  here  ;  that  two  buildings 
like  the  Capitol  at  Washington  could  be  piled  one  on  top  of 
the  other  between  where  we  stand  and  the  top  of  this  great 
temple,  we  begin  to  appreciate  its  vastness.  In  the  niches 
of  the  supporting  pillars  of  the  dome  stand  statues  —  life- 
size  they  look  on  approaching,  but  the  guide-book  records 
them  as  sixteen  feet  high.  As  the  eye  soars  up  again  into 
this  magnificent  vault,  with  its  recesses,  arches,  spandrels, 
and  decorations,  the  gaze  is  arrested  by  the  four  medallions 
of  the  Evangelists,  with  their  emblems,  that  appear  from 
where  you  stand  like  smoothly  executed  paintings,  but 
which,  when  you  climb  to  them,  are  mosaics  of  pieces  of 
colored  stone  big  as  your  thumb,  and  the  figures  great 
staring  giants.  St.  Luke,  with  a  hand  that  would  answer 
for  a  dinner-table,  grasps  a  pen  seven  feet  in  length,  and 
each  letter  of  the  mosaic  inscription  that  runs  round  the 
base  of  the  dome  —  fair-sized  letters  as  seen  from  below  — 
is  in  reality  six  feet  high.  These  figures  give  a  faint  idea 
of  the  vastness  of  the  proportions  of  St.  Peter's ;  but  its 
architectural  management  is  such  that  all  appears  to  har- 
monize, and  the  great  distance  reduces  the  coarseness  of 
these  huge  dimensions  into  proper  proportions. 

Another  object  by  which  the  visitor  educates  his  eye  is 
the  baldachino,  or  canopy,  that  stands  near  the  opening  or 
descent  to  St.  Peter's  tomb.  This  canopy  to  the  grand  altar, 
which  is  directly  over  the  tomb  itself,  appears  but  an  ordi- 
nary pavilion  under  the  centre  of  the  great  dome  ;  but  it  is 
nearly  a  hundred  feet  high  ;  and,  with  all  your  admiration 
at  the  wonders  of  St.  Peter's,  you  cannot  repress  the  wish 
that  Urban  VIII.  had  shown  himself  less  a  vandal  and  left 
the  great  plates  of  ancient  bronze  where  they  belonged,  in 
the  Pantheon,  instead  of  stripping  them  off  to  melt  down 
for  the  ornamental  screen  to  this  modern  altar  ;  for  he  took 
nearly  nine  thousand  pounds  of  the  Roman  bronze  for  this 
purpose  from  that  pagan  temple.    In  fact,  go  where  you  will 


KISSING    THE    TOE    OF    ST.    PETEu's    STATUE.  135 

in  Rome,  one  will  find  that  the  finest  of  the  old  pagan  tem- 
ples, erected  to  Jupiter  or  Mars,  or  other  heathen  deities, 
have  been  laid  under  contribution  for  modern  Christian 
churches.  The  Colosseum  appears  to  have  been  a  quarry 
for  modern  palaces,  and  the  Pantheon  and  Caracalla's  Baths 
a  mine  of  marble  and  sculpture  for  various  popes  whose 
brains  have  burned  with  desire  of  architectural  improvement 
and  decoration. 

After  lingering  round  this  wondrous  point  cVappui  beneath 
the  dome,  my  gaze  was  attracted  by  another  one  of  those 
world-renowned  objects  whose  acquaintance  we  make  in 
early  youth  in  the  story-books,  and  continually  renew  in 
travellers'  letters,  novelists'  descriptions,  and  pictured  rep- 
resentation,—  the  seated  bronze  figure  of  St.  Peter,  whose 
metal  toe  receives  so  many  labial  salutes  as  to  require  no 
chiropodist,  but,  rather,  a  protector  against  the  constant 
attrition  which  wears  away  even  the  solid  bronze.  This  is 
a  seated  life-size  bronze  figure  in  a  chair  of  white  marble  ; 
a  stiff  and  ungraceful  statue,  with  one  hand  grasping  the 
pontifical  key,  and  the  other  upraised  in  the  attitude  of  be- 
stowing a  papal  blessing,  first  two  fingers  extended,  and 
thumb  and  last  two  closed.  The  bronze  toe  of  the  seated 
figure  projects  a  few  inches  beyond  the  pedestal,  and  an 
examination  of  it  revealed  a  smoothly-worn  depression 
caused  by  contact  of  innumerable  lips  of  the  faithful. 

While  I  was  standing  here,  two  or  three  gathered  near, 
apparently  waiting  their  turn  after  I  should  have  finished 
what  they  might  have  considered  my  devotions.  I  there- 
fore stood  aside,  when  first  approached  a  woman  leading  a 
little  child.  She  kissed  the  bronze  toe,  pressed  her  forehead 
against  it  a  moment,  and  then  held  up  the  infant  to  apply 
its  little  lips.  Then  came  a  ragged,  greasy-looking  fellow, 
with  red  vest  and  what  had  once  been  a  velveteen  coat 
with  metal  buttons,  but  was  now  a  dust-colored  remnant. 
His  coarse,  wooden-soled  shoes  were  stained  with  the  dust 
of  the  Campagna,   and  his  complexion  tanned  by  the  sun 


136  THE    TEIBUXE. 

to  the  hue  of  darkened  Russia  leather.  lie  clasped  the  foot 
with  both  hands,  kissed  reverently,  fumbled  at  a  pocket, 
and  took  out  an  old  rosary,  and  went  to  a  side-chapel  and 
knelt  silently  before  an  altar  where  a  number  of  candles 
were  burning.  Then  came  a  workman,  apparently,  who 
brushed  the  bronze  toe  with  his  sleeve  before  kissing;  and, 
finally,  a  gentlemanly-looking  individual,  clad  in  Parisian 
garments  of  latest  style,  approached,  and,  after  wiping  the 
point  of  the  extended  foot  with  great  care  with  his  per- 
fumed linen  handkerchief,  he  too  bent  his  lips  to  respectfully 
salute  it.  Thus  I  witnessed  the  customary  salute  from  the 
different  grades  of  visitors  who  make  their  pilgrimages 
thither. 

An  attempt  to  describe  St.  Peter's  in  detail  will  hardly 
be  expected  from  any  traveller  or  writer  of  ordinary  expe- 
rience. The  great  side-chapels  which  we  visit  are  large 
enough  for  ordinary  churches.  On  every  side  the  eye  en- 
counters rich  decorations,  marbles,  carvings,  frescoing,  and. 
gilding.  The  monuments  in  St.  Peter's  are  not  of  remarka- 
ble historical  interest,  being  chiefly  ti'ibutes  to  the  popes, 
and  none  of  them  earlier  than  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  Tribune,  as  it  is  called,  at  the  extreme  end  of  the 
nave  beyond  the  dome,  and  beyond  what  is  known  as  the 
choir  in  cathedrals,  is  as  a  whole  a  florid  and  incongruous 
piece  of  architecture.  At  the  base  is  a  grand  altar  ;  at 
eacli  side,  upon  two  great  ornamental  pedestals,  stand  two 
mitred  figures,  one  with  extended  hand,  the  other  reading 
from  a  book  ;  behind  these  are  two  others,  whose  extended 
right  and  left  hands,  apparently,  hold  or  point  to  a  large 
ornamental  casket  between  and  above  their  heads,  in  which 
you  are  told  is  inclosed  the  identical  chair  in  which  St.  Peter 
and  many  of  his  successors  sat,  when  officiating  as  head  of 
the  church.  Above  this,  two  cherubs  support  the  inevitable 
tiara  and  keys,  and  above  them  is  a  glory  of  numerous 
angels  and  rays  of  golden  light,  the  dove  forming  the  centre 
and  the  surroundings  being  rich  in  gilding  and  frescoing. 


TOMBS    AND    MONUMENTS.  13T 

Speaking  of  relics,  of  which  every  Komish  cathedral,  even 
the  humblest,  has  some,  it  will  be  remembered  that  the  four 
great  relics  at  St.  Peter's  are  the  lance  which  is  said  to  have 
been  that  with  which  the  soldier  pierced  our  Saviour's  side  ; 
the  napkin  pressed  to  his  face  when  he  was  staggering  under 
the  weight  of  the  cross,  and  which  is  said  to  have  ever 
since  retained  the  impression  of  his  features  ;  a  fragment 
of  the  true  cross,  and  the  head  of  St.  Andrew.  These 
relics  are  exhibited  on  Holy  Thursday,  Good  Friday,  and 
Easter  Day,  but  from  a  balcony  so  high  in  the  air  that  they 
cannot  be  distinguished. 

The  papal  monuments  are  to  a  certain  extent  of  the  same 
general  character  —  rich  and  elegant  in  sculpture  and  exe- 
cution, but  all  representing  the  deceased  pontiff,  standing, 
reclining,  or  kneeling  in  his  robes  of  the  church,  the  inev- 
itable tiara  and  keys,  the  representations  of  angels,  cherubs, 
or  the  virtues  of  Truth  and  Fortitude,  allegorically  treated, 
being  prominent  in  all. 

In  the  first  chapel  we  were  interested  (as  all  are  who 
travel  in  Italy,  and  hear  Michael  Angelo's  name  mentioned 
so  frequently  in  every  church,  convent,  and  public  building) 
in  the  marble  group  of  the  Virgin  with  the  body  of  the  dead 
Saviour  on  her  knees,  as  being  one  of  his  first  works,  exe- 
cuted when  he  was  but  twenty-four  years  of  age. 

The  monument  to  Clement  XIII.  by  Canova,  in  the  right 
transept,  is  one  that  will  hold  the  visitor's  attention  —  the 
figure  of  the  Pope  in  marble  ;  kneeling,  and  on  either  side 
of  him,  a  figure  of  Religion  bearing  a  torch,  and  Deaith, 
with  reversed  torch,  all  beautifully  executed.  At  the  base 
of  the  monument,  guarding  the  door  of  the  vault,  are  two 
noble  figures  of  lions,  magnificent  representations  of  the 
animal  in  marble,  with  strength  and  savage  majesty  faith- 
fully delineated  in  every  line  and  feature.  Another  inter- 
esting monument  is  that  of  Innocent  VIII.,  who  was  pope 
from  1484  to  1492.  He  is  represented  in  marble,  in  a  re- 
cumbent position  upon  his  sarcophagus,  and  again  above  it 


138  MAEBLE    MIRACLES    OF    A    MIGHTY    TEMPLE. 

in  a  sitting  posture,  bestowing  the  papal  blessing,  while 
one  hand  holds  the  sacred  lance  above  alluded  to,  which 
pierced  tlie  side  of  our  Saviour,  This  tomb  and  that  of 
Sixtus  IV.  are  the  only-two  that  were  replaced  in  the  church 
after  the  destruction  of  the  old  one-,  its  predecessor. 

The  tomb  of  Benedict  XIV.  is  a  fine  one,  showing  his 
statue  supported  by  statues  of  Science  and  Charit}'^ ;  and 
the  chapel  of  the  Holy  Sacrament  contains  a  superb  taberna- 
cle of  lapis-lazuli  and  bronze,  and  the  tomb  of  Sixtus  IV,, 
in  bronze,  elegantly  ornamented  with  bas-reliefs.  Here  in 
this  chapel,  with  nothing  to  mark  his  resting-place  but  a 
slab  in  the  pavement,  rest  the  ashes  of  Julius  II.,  who,  it 
will  be  found  on  consulting  history,  deserves  the  largest 
share  of  the  credit  of  raising  this  magnificent  edifice. 

The  attention  of  American  as  well  as  English  visitors  is 
alike  attracted  to  the  monument  to  the  last  three  members 
of  the  Stuart  family,  James  the  Third,  Charles  the  Third, 
and  Henry  the  Ninth.  It  is  the  work  of  Canova,  and  rep- 
resents a  marble  obelisk,  with  a  marble  mausoleum  at  its 
base,  guarded  by  winged  figures  of  genii,  which  the  guide- 
book tells  us  received  their  stucco  breeches  in  the  time  of 
Leo  XII,,  because  their  nakedness  was  an  oifence  to  his 
ideas  of  modesty.  Near  here,  in  the  chapel  of  the  Baptis- 
tery, is  what  remains  of  the  red  porphyry  vase  which  formed 
the  cover  or  upturned  bed  of  the  tomb  of  the  Emperor 
Otho  II.  It  is  twelve  feet  long,  and,  as  before  stated,  was 
formerly  the  receptacle  of  Hadrian's  ashes,  but  is  now  a 
baptismal  font. 

My  note-book  has  points  of  admiration  for  various  other 
sculptures  and  wonders,  made  in  my  hours  of  wandering, 
all  too  brief,  amid  the  marble  miracles  of  this  mighty  tem- 
ple—  pictures,  statues,  bas-reliefs,  mosaics,  sculptures,  and 
marbles  innumerable,  that  I  have  not  space  to  mention,  and 
could  hardly  do  so  intelligibly  without  giving  a  detailed  de- 
scription of  the  building.  An  expert  valet  de  place  will 
point  out  rich  yellow  marble  wainscotings  from  some  of  the 


HOW    TO    VISIT    ST.    PETEe'S.  139 

old  pagan  temples  of  Jupiter,  or  Venus,  or  Mars,  columns 
of  beauty  said  to  have  come  from  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem, 
and  other  wonders,  as  you  pass  from  point  to  point. 

In  St.  Peter's  are  confessionals,  it  is  said,  for  every  known 
language  ;  and  there  are  in  the  church  forty-sis  altars,  two 
hundred  and  ninety  windows,  three  hundred  and  ninety 
statues,  and  seven  hundred  and  forty-eight  columns.  And 
this  great  church,  we  are  told,  stands  over  the  vaults  con- 
taining the  mortal  remains  of  "  eight  apostles,  eleven  fathers 
of  the  church,  eleven  founders  of  orders,  and  thirty-five 
canonized  popes,"  while  the  very  bronze  columns  which 
support  the  canopy  of  the  great  altar  are  filled  with  the 
bones  of  martyrs,  which  were  exhumed  from  the  Vatican 
catacombs  when  they  were  swept  aside  to  make  a  founda- 
tion for  the  present  great  church  of  St.  Peter's. 

St.  Peter's  should  not  be  visited  hurriedly,  or  with  a  large 
party,  who  will  rudely  disturb  with  the  clatter  of  tongues 
the  hushed  revei'ence  which  its  grandeur  and  beauty  impose 
upon  you  as  you  stand  beneath  its  marvellous  dome,  feel 
dwarfed  by  the  side  of  its  huge  pillars,  and  note  the*  com- 
parative silence  which  seems  to  pervade  the  interior,  no 
matter  how  many  be  present.  One  hasty  visit,  and  you 
bring  away  a  confused  recollection  of  a  lofty  dome,  fretted 
ceiling,  long  nave,  a  confusion  of  statues,  piflars,  and 
"  apotheosis  of  popedom,"  as  Frederika  Bremer  calls  it. 
A  quiet,  leisurely  saunter,  with  time  to  spare,  and  a  revisit- 
ing again  and  again,  is  necessary  to  enable  the  mind  fully 
to  grasp  and  properly  appreciate  its  grandeur  as  a  great 
architectui-al  wonder. 

The  cost  of  the  main  building  of  St.  Peter's,  which  was 
dedicated  November  18,  1626,  but  may  not  be  said  to  have 
been  completed  until  Pius  VI.  built  the  sacristy  in  1780, 
was  over  ten  million  pounds  sterling;  and  the  annual  ex- 
pense now  of  keeping  it  in  repair  is  about  six  thousand  five 
hundred  pounds,  or  over  thirty-two  thousand  dollars  —  a 
bagatelle,  when  it  is  considered  what  some  of  our  modern 


140  A   VILLAGE    IN    THE    AIR. 

American  politicians  expend  in  furnishing  and  keeping  city- 
halls  and  custom-houses  in  repair. 

The  floor  or  lower  part  of  this  great  Christian  temple 
having  been  "  done  "  by  the  tourist,  an  ascent  to  the  dome 
is  the  next  wonder  that  awaits  him.  The  ascent  is  not  by 
means  of  stairs,  but  by  a  broad,  paved,  gently  ascending, 
zig-zag  walk,  up  which  a  horse  or  mule  might  easily  travel. 

On  the  walls  on  the  side  of  the  staircase  are  inscriptions 
recording  the  ascent  of  various  monarchs  and  distinguished 
personages,  the  most  recent  being  that  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  who  went  up  into  the  ball  February  10,  1859.  On 
our  way  up  we  stepped  out  upon  the  roof  of  the  facade, 
where  stand  the  statues  of  our  Saviour  and  the  Apostles, 
which  we  find  to  be  marble  giants  eighteen  feet  high.  We 
look  over  the  huge,  breast-high  balustrade  down  into  the 
beautiful  piazza  that  is  spread  out  one  hundred  and  forty- 
four  feet  below  us,  with  its  obelisk,  fountain,  and  moving 
groups  of  visitors  dwarfed  by  the  distance ;  we  gaze 
around  and  observe  the  two  cupolas,  of  one  hundred  feet  in 
heiglit,  which  are  on  either  side  of  the  great  dome  which 
soars  in  its  swelling  majesty  far,  far  above  them  three  hundred 
feet  further  into  the  blue  air ;  and  here  also  are  five  smaller 
domes  which  are  above  the  great  chapels  ;  then  there  are 
huts  or  habitations  for  custodians  who  have  the  care  of  the 
roof  upon  which  you  walk  about  in  difierent  passages,  like, 
as  it  were,  a  series  of  streets  in  the  air,  and  begin  to  get 
still  newer  ideas  of  the  hugeness  of  St.  Peter's  as  you  step 
in  and  resume  the  ascent  of  the  dome  that  towers  above. 

Up,  up,  still  up,  till  at  last  a  gallery  is  reached  which  you 
step  out  into  and  look  downwards,  instinctively  clutching 
the  iron  railing  that  protects,  and  look  away  down  to  the 
pavement  as  from  the  basket  of  a  balloon.  The  people  on 
the  floor  have  lessened  to  Liliputians,  the  great,  hundred- 
feet-high  baldachino  has  shrunken  to  the  size  of  a  four- 
posted  bedstead  ;  atop  and  behind  the  huge  pillars  is  a  wide 
alley-way  in  which  workmen  are  walking.  One  is  hung 
down,  seated  in  a  loop  of  rope,  fastening  a  series  of  dec- 


A   DIZZY    PROMENADE.  141 

orations  to  points  at  the  head  of  the  fluting-s  of  the  great 
pillars,  and  he  makes  progress  from  one  to  the  other  by- 
giving  a  vigorous  push  with  his  foot  and  swinging  out,  like 
a  spider  on  his  thread,  ten  or  a  dozen  feet  into  the  open 
space,  and  coming  back  in  the  next  fluting.  It  fairly  makes 
you  giddy  to  look  at  him. 

But  when  you  get  up  to  the  upper  gallery,  close  to  the 
swell  of  the  dome,  where  the  mosaic  work,  that  appeared  so 
smooth  and  elegant  from  below,  is  now  as  coarse  and  rough 
as  ill-executed  scene-painting,  and  can  hardly  read  the  let- 
ters that  surround  the  rim,  they  are  so  big,  and  the  look 
down  calls  for  so  steady  a  head  that,  though  the  strong 
iron  rail  comes  up  full  breast-high,  but  the  coolest  of  the 
party' will  make  its  circuit,  — then  we  realize  the  magnitude 
and  wonder  of  this  work  of  human  hands.  It  requires  a 
steady  head  to  walk  around  this  railed  passage-way,  and 
the  very  steadiest  of  the  steady  to  stand  close  to  the  rail 
and  look  down  from  this  height  to  the  pavement,  four  hun- 
dred feet  beneath.  But  the  glories  of  the  dome  and  lan- 
tern, their  elegant  decorations,  ornamentations,  and  coloring, 
are  around  and  about  the  astonished  visitor,  and,  gaze  which 
way  he  will,  new  wonders  greet  him. 

Back  to  the  passage  between  outer  and  inner  dome,  and 
up  we  mount,  and  step  out  upon  a  little  gallery,  not  visible 
from  below,  which  we  find  is  at  the  base  of  the  ball,  and 
from  which  a  view  of  the  surrounding  country  is  had,  as 
from  a  private-box  seat  in  the  top  of  a  high  mountain. 
Then  comes  an  ascent  into  the  ball,  made  by  an  almost  per- 
pendicular stair,  and  through  a  space  that  can  be  passed  by 
but  one  person  at  a  time.  Although  I  had  the  privilege  of 
a  five  minutes'  visit  inside  this  great  hollow  globe,  with 
thirteen  other  visitors,  who,  like  myself,  desired  probably  to 
say  they  had  stood  in  the  ball  of  St.  Peter's,  I  am  not  pre- 
pared to  say  the  experience  was  an  agreeable  one,  and  was 
glad  to  get  down  to  the  outer  gallery,  and  enjoy  the  ex- 
tended view  and  pure  atmosphere,  before  descending  to 
terra  Jirma  again. 


142  THE    PANTHEON. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Having  seen  the  most  magnificent  of  modern  Christian  tem- 
ples, I  next  bent  my  way  to  the  most  splendid  of  the  pagan 
temples  of  old  Rome  —  the  Pantheon,  that  model  of  ancient 
architectural  beauty  which  even  now,  with  its  perfect  inte- 
rior, its  simple  grandeur  and  proportions,  notwithstanding 
the  vandal  additions  of  various  popes,  who  seemed  to  vie 
with  each  other  in  plundering  pagan  temples,  or  rendering 
the  beautiful  structures,  which  they  could  not  rival  or  ap- 
proach, hideous  by  their  additions  or  alterations,  —  even 
with  the  mangling  that  the  Pantheon  has  received,  it  rises 
in  my  recollection  as  a  thing  of  beauty  that  is  a  joy  forever. 

The  impression  of  its  faultless  beauty  came  over  me  as  I 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  perfect  circle  of  this  great  temple 
to  all  the  gods,  —  a  rotunda  one  hundred  and  fortj^-two  feet 
in  diameter  and  one  hundred  and  forty-three  feet  high. 
There  are  no  windows,  but  a  perfectly  circular  aperture  in 
the  top,  of  twenty-eight  feet  in  diameter,  admits  a  light 
that  lights  the  whole,  and  through  which  the  blue  Italian 
sky  and  fleecy  clouds  are  seen.  Around  on  all  sides  are 
now  Christian  altars,  and  the  great  niches  are  vacant  tliat 
once  held  marble  figures  of  heathen  deities  ;  the  magnifi- 
cent bronze  plates  that  sheathed  the  most  perfect  dome  in 
the  world  are  stripped  away  ;  nay,  even  someof  the  stone 
and  marble  work  is  whitewashed  or  otherwise  disfigured  ; 
and  yet  you  cannot  stand  upon  the  floor  of  this  magnificent 
old  temple  to  the  gods,  built  twenty-seven  years  before 
Christ,  without  involuntary  expressions  of  admiration  at  its 
perfect  beauty  of  proportion. 

What  must  it  liave  been  in  its  prime,  with  its  magnificent 
front,  not  as  now  sunken  as  modern  Rome,  or  as  successive 


A    GLORIOUS    PAGAN    TEMPLE.  143 

modern  Romes  have  heaped  their  soil  up  over  the  old  city, 
till  now  you  step  down  into  the  Pantheon;'  what  must  it 
have  been  eighteen  centuries  ago,  when  its  magnificent  por- 
tico, with  its  grand  front  of  over  one  hundred  feet,  sup- 
ported by  sixteen  Corinthian  jiillars  thirty-six  feet  high, 
(which  still  remain,)  was  above  the  level  of  the  street,  and 
was  approached  by  a  flight  of  six  marble  steps,  and  the 
vestibule  a  beautiful  vista  of  white  marble  pilasters,  the 
pediment  above  was  ornamented  with  glorious  bas-reliefs, 
(you  may  see  the  holes  in  which  the  bolts  holding  them 
were  placed,  to  this  day,)  and  the  roof,  sheathed  with 
bronze,  which  Pope  Urban  VIII.  not  only  was  vandal 
enough  to  strip  off  and  melt  down  for  bronze  columns  and 
cannon,  but  perpetuated  the  act,  that  there  should  be  no 
mistake  as  to  who  the  despoilcr  was,  by  recording  it  in  a 
Latin  inscription  over  one  of  the  doorways  ?  Then  he 
increased  the  outrage  by  adding  two  ugly  bell-towers  to 
the  dome,  —  "  asses'  ears,"  they  are  very  justly  called  ;  — 
and  another  pope,  Benedict  XIV.,  who  was  pope  from  1740 
to  1758,  tore  away  beautiful  marbles  from  the  upper  part 
of  it  to  adorn  buildings  he  was  erecting. 

But  despite  all  this,  the  grand  and  perfect  beauty  of  the 
temple  could  not  be  destroyed,  and  we  can  imagine,  stand- 
ing here  upon  wliat  was  once  the  elegant  pavement  of  por- 
phyry and  marble,  how  grandly  the  pagan  altar  reared  its 
height  beneath  the  then  perfect  vault  of  bronze,  and  the 
smoke  of  ascending  sacrifice  rose  through  the  great  opening 
direct  to  the  nostrils  of  mythical  Jove  himself,  and  in  these 
now  empty  niches,  fifty  feet  above  the  pavement,  there 
stood  looking  down  upon  priests  and  people  the  colossal 
sculptured  figures  of  Jupiter,  warlike  Mars,  and  majestic 
Minerva,  Apollo  with  bent  bow,  or  with  l^^-e  in  hand,  and 
Vulcan  pausing  over  his  thunderbolts.  The  sides  of  the 
vast  circle  glittered  with  polished  marbles  and  elegant 
carving ;  the  attic  or  roof  gleamed  with  sculptured  silver 
and  bronze,   and   was   upheld  by  caryatides  of   Syracusan 


144  VANDALISM. 

bronze.  Statues  to  Rome's  emperors  and  senators  peopled 
niches  at  the  entrance  and  in  the  porticos,  and  Marcus 
Agrippa's  superb  temple  to  the  gods  was  one  of  the  glories 
of  old  Rome. 

The  ancient  bronze  doors  remain,  and  the  Corinthian  pil- 
lars, of  red  granite,  with  marble  capitals,  roughened  and 
bUickened  with  the  breath  of  eighteen  centuries,  will  con- 
tinue to  command  attention,  exact  admiration,  and  remind 
the  student  of  the  architecture  of  classical  times  ;  but  all 
around  the  interior  in  the  different  recesses  he  will  find  the 
modern  altars  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  with  their 
florid  and  tawdry  ornaments,  tinsel  and  frippery,  which  illy 
accord  with  the  ancient  surroundings.  The  building  is  said 
to  be  a  species  of  brick  work,  and  was  coated  or  veneered 
with  marble,  but  the  exterior  coating  was  stripped  off  by 
the  spoilers  of  modern  times.  So  also  was  plundered  the 
sculptured  silver  on  the  interior  of  the  roof  by  successive 
vandals, 

Rome  built  and  raised  her  most  costly  and  beautiful 
edifices  from  the  spoil  of  plundered  cities,  and  by  the  cap- 
tives brought  by  emperors  "  home  to  Rome,  whose  ransoms 
did  the  general  coffers  fill ;  "  and  the  law  of  compensation, 
or  of  retribution,  was  at  last  wrought  upon  herself,  and  by 
some  of  the  very  people  from  whom  she  had  wrenched 
fathers,  husbands,  and  brothers,  treasures  and  spoils ;  base 
barbarians,  whom  proud  Rome  once  despised,  ran  riot 
through  her  streets,  plundered  and  despoiled  her  temples, 
and  only  consented  to  leave  Rome's  supplicating  ambassa- 
dors their  lives  on  condition  of  their  surrendering  every- 
thing else. 

The  approach  to  some  of  these  splendid  relics  of  ancient 
Rome  takes  the  romance  and  poetry  most  thoroughly  out 
of  the  tourist;  and  that  to  the  Pantheon,  through  dirty 
streets,  beggars,  and  hucksters,  who  fullow  and  pester  one 
to  the  very  door  of  the  temple,  but  illy  prepares  you  for  an 
admiration   of  its    beauties,  and    too  often,  on    departing, 


THE    CAPITOLINE    HILL.  145 

rudely  destroys  the  sentiments  which  a  contemplation  of  its 
interior  has  aroused. 

Where  next  ? 

To  the  Capitol  !  The  Hill  of  Kings,  the  very  sanctum 
sanctorum  of  the  Koman  state,  the  scene  of  the  birth  of  the 
most  important  events  of  Rome's  history.  There  where  her 
senators  assembled  and  their  laws  were  made,  where,  wind- 
ing up  the  hill,  after  his  triumph  through  the  city,  came  the 
victorious  Roman  general  to  receive  the  senate's  thanks  and 
conqueror's  laurel  wreath  ;  the  site  of  Rome's  fortress  that 
our  boyhood's  story  told  us  was  saved  from  an  invading  foe 
by  the  cackling  of  scared  geese,  tho  place  where  the  Tarpe- 
ian  rock  reared  its  precipitous  height,  and  the  scene  of  Bru- 
tus's  oration  to  the  people  after  the  murder  of  Julius  Caesar. 

What  a  grand  place  is  the  Capitoline  Hill  in  our  imagi- 
nation, and  what  a  magnificently  big  place  we  always 
thought  it  must  be  from  its  history,  and  the  temples  that 
were  said  to  have  stood  upon  it,  and  the  scenes  enacted 
there  !  Away  back  to  the  time  of  Romulus  they  tell  us  the 
gate  of  the  fortress  on  the  hill  was  opened  by  Tarpeia,  and 
I  went  and  stood  on  the  spot  a  little  above  where  the  ruined 
arch  of  Severus  is,  as  the  place  where  the  besieging  soldiers, 
in  obedience  to  tho  promise  of  the  traitress,  threw  off  for  her, 
as  a  reward  for  her  treason,  as  they  had  promised,  "  that 
which  they  wore  on  their  left  arms  ;  "  not  the  coveted  golden 
bracelet,  but  the  heavy  bronze  and  iron  shield  ;  and,  crushed 
beneath  the  weight  of  metal,  she  received  fit  reward  for  her 
perfidy. 

It  must  be  confessed  a  powerful  amount  of  imagination  is 
required  to  rehabilitate  this  hill  as  antiquarian  and  historical 
authorities  describe  it.  How  the}^  found  room  for  so  many 
buildings  there  puzzled  me  on  looking  at  it,  for  either  the 
ancient  edifices  must  have  been  of  circumscribed  dimensions, 
or  else  the  grand  hill  of  the  Capitol,  the  head  of  the  empire, 
state,  and  republic,  must  be  now  sadly  shorn  of  its  ancient 
dimensions. 

10 


146  LEGENDS  AND  LOCALITIES. 

Here  it  was,  away  back  in  the  time  of  Tarquinius  Super- 
bus,  B.  c.  535,  so  the  legend  runs,  that  the  splendid  temple 
of  Jupiter  Capitoliuus  was  built  on  the  rocky  platform.  It 
was  two  hundred  Roman  feet  square,  with  pavement  of 
mosaic,  and  g-ates  of  gilt  bronze,  and  underneath  it  was  kept 
that  old  bundle  of  palm-leaves  known  in  the  story  as  the 
Sibjdline  books.  Tarquiu's  building  is  said  to  have  stood 
two  hundred  3'eai's,  and  then  came  a  more  splendid  one 
after  its  destruction,  B.  c.  83.  Tliis  went  down  a.  d.  69,  and 
of  course  another  was  erected  ;  and  on  this  hill  Titus  and  Ves- 
pasian celebrated  the  fall  of  Jerusalem.  But  like  all  other 
of  Rome's  rich  temples,  that  on  the  Capitoline  Hill  attracted 
the  cupidity  of  vandals,  who  stripped  it  of  its  splendors  a.  rt. 
455.  On  arriving  at  the  disappointing  little  Capitoline  Hill, 
it  seemed  to  me  there  was  so  little  space  that  I  "  overhauled 
my  note-book,"  as  Cap'n  Cuttle  would  say,  wondering  how, 
besides  the  temple  to  Jupiter  Capitoliuus,  there  could  have 
stood  here,  or  on  the  adjacent  height,  so  many  points  of 
interest  as  set  down  in  history,  namely,  old  Numa's  Temple 
of  Faith,  Temple  of  Jupiter  Tonans,  Juno  Moneta,  Temple 
of  Honor,  temples  of  Mars  and  Venus  ;  and  it  was  up  here 
somewhere  (I  could  not  place  the  locality)  where  once  was 
the  fortress  from  which,  during  a  siege,  the  Romans  threw 
loaves  of  bread,  so  the  story  runs,  down  into  the  enemy's 
camp  to  cheat  them  into  the  belief  that  they  were  abundantly 
supplied  with  provisions,  while  in  reality  they  were  perish- 
ing with  hunger. 

All  these  old  legends  come  up  fresh  in  your  mind,  or  a 
group  of  tourists  talking  with  each  other  of  what  they  have 
read  and  studied  of  old  Rome,  Avill  recall  them  when  visit- 
ing these  historic  spots. 

But  our  carriage  stops  at  the  foot  of  a  broad  flight  of 
stairs  known  as  "La  Cordonnata,"  put  here  in  153G,  but 
taken  from  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  on  the  Quirinal.  They 
mark,  however,  the  sight  of  the  ancient  staircase  that  led 
to  the  Temple   of  Jupiter  Capitoliuus,  and  at  the   foot  of 


THE    SQUARE    OF    THE    CAPITOL.  147 

whicli,  marked  by  the  spot  where  the  end  of  these  stairs 
touches  at  the  left,  Rieuzi  the  tribune  was  killed.  Near  this 
staircase,  through  a  little  garden,  we  were  shown  two  or 
three  underground  arches,  which  are  said  to  be  part  of  the 
lower  portions  of  the  celebrated  temple  to  Capitoline  Jove, 
to  whom  we  have  made  such  frequent  reference. 

Two  great  carved  lions  are  at  the  foot  of  the  broad  stair- 
case, and  at  its  summit  we  discover  two  ugly  colossal 
marble  figures,  Castor  and  Pollux,  standing  by  the  side  of 
their  steeds.  These  two  are  transfers,  having  been  brought 
here  from  the  Ghetto  and  placed  in  this  position,  and  at  the 
top,  along  the  edge  of  the  platform,  are  other  statues,  which 
probably  the  guide-books  tell  of;  I  remember  examining 
some  carved  armorial  trophies  called  the  trophies  of  Marius, 
and  looking  with  some  interest  at  a  genuine  old  Roman 
mile-stone  brought  from  the  Appian  Way.  I  then  turned 
about  and  stood  in  the  square  of  the  Capitol  of  Rome,  one 
of  the  historical  spots  in  the  world  that  every  student  longs 
to  visit. 

Here  it  was,  and  a  disappointment  at  last,  looking  like 
a  very  modern  square  ;  the  flight  of  steps  on  one  side,  and 
three  somewhat  modern  and  by  no  means  remarkable-look- 
ing buildings  on  the  other  three.  In  the  centre,  however, 
stood  the  majestic  and  grand  equestrian  statue  of  Marcus 
Aurelius,  with  outstretched  hand,  in  attitude  of  command, 
the  most  perfect  statue  of  antiquity  that  has  come  down  to 
us,  being  one  of  twenty-two  bronze  equestrian  statues  that 
existed  in  Rome  in  the  fifth  century.  It  formerly  stood 
near  the  Arch  of  Severus,  Avas  removed  in  1187  b}'  Pope 
Clement  III.  to  the  front  of  the  Lateran  Church,  and  placed 
in  this  square  by  order  of  Paul  III.  in  1187.  In  the  year 
966  a  prefect  of  Rome  who  rebelled  against  Pope  John 
XIII.  was  hung  by  his  hair  from  this  horse  ;  so  the  steed 
has  a  story  if  not  a  pedigree.  The  pedestal  on  which  it 
stands  was  cut  by  Michael  Angelo  from  a  solid  piece  of 
cornice  found  in  the  Forum.     It  was  also  here,  in  this  open 


148 


THK    WOLF    OF    THE   CAPITOL. 


space,  that  Brutus  spoke  to  the  people  after  Caesar's  murder ; 
here  over  this  ground  great  Csesar  walked. 

We  crossed  the  square  back  to  a  corner  near  the  right 
hand  of  the  head  of  the  staircase  after  ascending,  and 
looked  over  what  we  were  told  was  the  Tarpeian  Rock,  an 
eminence  looking  down  into  a  dirty  alley,  and  giving  one 
the  impression  that  the  rock  must  have  been  razeed,  or  the 
surface  below  have  changed  its  character  and  been  filled  up 
since  Manlius  was  hurled  down  there  by  the  patricians,  who 
envied  his  popularity  as  the  friend  of  the  people.  All  these 
statues,  staircase,  and  buildings,  being  comparatively  mod- 
ern, leave  but  little  else  than  the  hill  itself  to  recall  any- 
thing that  was  really  as  ancient  Rome  stood,  and  even  the 
hill  must  have  been  shorn  in  size  and  changed  in  form  since 
then. 

Upon  the  three  sides  of  the  square  stand  the  Church  of 
Ara  Coeli,  the  Palace  of  the  Senator,  and  the  Palace  of  the 
Conservatoi'i,  containing  a  collection  of  some  of  the  most  in- 
teresting objects  in  Rome.  Here  we  saw  magnificent  speci- 
mens of  ancient  Roman  statuary,  a  group  of  a  lion  attacking 
a  horse,  found  in  the  bed  of  the  river  Almo  ;  and  what  is  said 
to  be  the  only  authentic  statue  of  Julius  Csesar. 

Here,  also,  is  the  famous  bronze  Wolf  of  the  Capitol,  a 
rough-looking  representation,  but  it  is  interesting  to  look 
upon  the  figure  referred  to  by  Cicero.  And  that  familiar 
statue,  familiar  from  the  thousands  of  copies  that  have  been 
made  of  it,  of  a  boy  extracting  a  thorn  from  his  foot  is  here, 
an  act  simple  enough  in  itself,  but  represented  in  this  statue 
with  such  wonderful  fidelity  as  to  command  admiration  even 
from  the  casual  spectator. 

The  Capitoline  Museum,  opposite  to  the  Palace  of  the 
Conservatori,  is  rich  iu  antique  sculpture,  Roman  remains, 
and  anti(|uities.  Here  is  the  famous  mosaic,  found  in  Ha- 
drian's Villa  at  Tivoli,  which  has  been  copied  so  often  into 
ladies'  mosaic  breastpins,  "  Pliny's  Doves,"  on  which  some 
doves  are  represented  sitting  upon  the  edge  of  a  vase  drink- 


THE    CAPITOLINE    MUSEUM.  149 

ing  and  pluming  themselves.  This  mosaic  is  composed  of 
quite  minute  bits  of  stone,  one  hundred  and  sixty  diiferent 
pieces  having  been  counted  to  the  square  inch. 

In  the  same  hall  with  this  wonderful  mosaic  were  some 
most  interesting  specimens  of  ancient  sarcophagi,  elegant 
in  rich  allegorical  carving,  a  feast  for  the  art-student.  That 
known  as  the  Prometheus  Sarcophagus  is  thickly  covered 
with  carving,  and  is  chiefly  interesting  as  telling  in  sculpture 
the  whole  fable  of  Prometheus  which  may  be  readily  traced 
out  upon  it.  Prometheus  is  seen  seated  with  the  vessel 
of  clay  by  his  side  from  which  he  has  formed  his  model  of 
man,  and  around  him  are  the  diiferent  deities  bestowing 
upon  his  creation  their  diflferent  gifts,  while  at  one  side  are 
the  representations  of  the  four  elements  necessary  for  the 
formation  and  support  of  man,  namely.  Fire,  represented  by 
a  group  round  the  forge  of  Vulcan  ;  Water,  by  a  water  god 
reclining  on  a  sea-monster  ;  Earth,  by  a  female  figure  with 
cornucopia  of  fruits  ;  and  Air,  by  ^olus  and  flying  chariots. 
Here,  also,  are  the  beautiful  statues  known  as  the  Venus  of 
the  Capitol,  Leda  and  the  Swan,  and  Cupid  and  Psyche. 

The  Venus  of  the  Capitol,  so  called,  is  a  very  perfect  and 
beautiful  statue,  and  said  to  have  been  found  walled  up  in 
a  niche  wdiere  it  had  evidently  been  hidden  for  protection  ; 
it  was  placed  in  this  museum  by  Pope  Benedict  in  1V52, 
and  is  a  Greek  work  ranking  third  in  merit  as  a  statue  of 
the  goddess,  —  those  of  Milo  and  Medicis  being  first  and 
second,  though  this  is  a  point  of  dispute,  as  many  art  critics 
consider  this  superior  to  the  Medicean  statue.  To  any  lover 
of  art,  however,  it  is  a  wonderfully  beautiful  creation,  and 
quite  perfect,  the  only  restorations  that  have  been  necessary 
being  a  part  of  a  finger  on  the  right,  and  the  first  finger  of 
the  left  hand. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  portrait  galleries  in  the  world 
is  the  hall  here  known  as  the  Hall  of  the  Emperors,  contain- 
ing nearly  one  hundred  splendid  busts  of  Roman  emperors 
and  their  wives. 


150  HALL    OF    THE    EMPERORS. 

This  Hall  of  the  Emperors  is  a  curious  study,  as  aflford- 
ing  the  student  some  idea  of  how  near  his  imagination  has 
approached  reality  with  regard  to  the  personal  appear- 
ance of  the  various  tyrants,  brutes,  gluttons,  voluptuaries, 
and  coarse  conquerors  who  have  in  succession  ruled  Rome 
in  the  past ;  for  the  faithfulness  of  very  many  of  these 
busts  has  been  verified  and  their  authenticity  proved  by  vari- 
ous circumstances,  such  as  their  comparison  with  coins  and 
medals,  inscriptions,  and  the  positions  where  they  were  dis- 
covered, and  other  proofs  which  leave  but  little  doubt  that 
a  majority  of  them  were  portrait  busts  sculptured  during 
the  life  of  the  persons  they  were  designed  to  represent. 

In  this  hall  of  busts,  or,  in  fact,  in  any  one  of  the  muse- 
ums of  Rome,  he  who  is  at  all  interested  in  Roman  history, 
in  art  or  antiquity,  and  who  for  the  first  time  finds  himself 
surrounded  with  all  these  voiceless  though  speaking  relies 
of  tlie  past,  pointing  out,  corroborating,  and  emphasizing  the 
history  that  he  has  studied  and  read,  and  who  desires  to  tell 
what  he  sees  to  others  who,  less  fortunate  than  himself, 
have  not  looked  upon  them,  finds  himself  embarrassed  be- 
yond measure.  Where  to  begin  ?  What  is  the  most  worthy 
of  note  ?  To  be  sure  and  examine  the  great  and  noted  works, 
—  familiar  as  household  words  from  frequent  description,  and 
not  to  omit  the  enjoyment  of  other  records  of  Roman  art  and 
history  that  surround  him,  and  that  carry  one  back  to  the 
time  of  the  Cifisars,  or  the  exciting  scenes  of  the  Roman 
Forum.  Again,  in  the  bare  enumeration  and  comment  upon 
what  one  sees  here,  we  run  the  risk  of  appearing  to  repro- 
duce a  guide-book.  The  author,  therefore,  mentions  a  few  of 
the  historic  objects  that  more  especially  attracted  his  atten- 
tion, and  they  are  described  simply  as  specimens  of  this  price- 
less collection  of  ancient  art. 

The  seated  statue  of  Agrippina,  daughter  of  Agrippa,  and 
grandmother  of  Nero,  in  the  middle  of  this  hall,  is  sure  to 
attract  the  attention  from  its  beautiful  simplicity  of  pose, 
its   sad   but  majestic   expression   of    countenance,   and    its 


PORTRAIT   BUSTS    OF   ROMe's    EMPERORS.  151 

natural  attitude,  while  the  sad  record  of  the  ill-fated  but 
noble-spirited  lady  gives  additional  interest  to  this  marble 
representation,  which  those  who  have  read  of  her  can  readily 
imagine  to  be  a  faithful  portrait  by  the  sculptor. 

A  fine  head  is  that  of  Poppea  Sabina,  second  wife  of 
Nero,  and  killed  by  that  brute  by  a  kick,  in  a  fit  of  passion  ; 
the  head  and  neck  are  beautifully  formed  of  white  marble, 
and  the  plaits  of  hair  are  carried  round  the  head  ;  and  you 
are  shown  the  remains  of  bronze  pins  which  probably  once 
held  a  bronze  wreath  or  head-dress. 

Quite  a  curious  figure  was  that  of  Lucilla,  daughter  of 
Marcus  Aurelius,  as  showing  the  skill  used  in  the  manage- 
ment of  different-colored  marbles  ;  the  drapery  is  so  arranged 
as  to  appear  like  a  striped  robe  of  two  different  colors  ;  the 
face  and  neck  of  the  figure  are  of  white  marble,  but  the  hair, 
which  is  made  to  take  off,  of  black. 

Here  we  see  the  bust  of  Septimius  Severus,  he  to  whom 
the  arch  was  erected,  who  built  the  great  wall  between 
England  and  Scotland,  and  died  at  York,  a.  d.  211.  Next 
comes  Caracalla,  son  of  Septimius,  who  made  his  name  cel- 
ebrated by  the  magnificent  public  baths  that  he  commenced, 
that  bear  his  name,  and  the  ruins  of  which  are  to  this  day 
one  of  the  wonders  of  Rome.  Near  by  is  a  bust  of  Cara- 
calla's  murderer,  Macrinus,  who  held  his  ill-gotten  power 
but  a  year,  when  he  in  turn  was  deposed  and  executed  by 
Heliogabalus. 

We  must  not  forget  in  the  inspection  of  the  marble  por- 
traits of  these  emperors  of  bloody  succession,  that  of  their 
predecessor,  Augustus,  the  first  Roman  emperor  who  was 
acknowledged  the  undisputed  monarch  of  Rome  b}'  the 
victory  of  Actium,  b.  c.  30.  Theh  here  is  Domitian,  the 
last  of  the  twelve  C^sars,  a  cruel  brute,  who  reigned  eleven 
years,  and  was  murdered  in  the  Palace  of  the  Caesars,  a.  d. 
96  ;  a  fine  bust  of  Trajan,  whose  name  with  the  general 
reader  is  inseparably  connected  with  the  most  elegant  and 
tasteful  of  all  historic  columns — Trajan's  Column,  erected 


152  SCULPTURED    STORIES. 

in  his  honor  by  the  senate  and  the  Eoman  people  in  114; 
and  Hadrian,  noted,  as  we  know,  for  his  architecture,  circus, 
great  mausoleum  (Castle  of  St  Angelo),  and  magnificent 
villa  near  Tivoli. 

Nero's  bust  !  It  is  unnecessary  to  recall  the  bloody 
deeds  that  will  invest  this  bust  with  interest.  The  story  of 
his  brutal  murder  of  his  own  mother,  his  licentiousness  and 
cruelties,  and  the  destruction  of  a  great  portion  of  Rome  by 
fire  under  his  bloody  rule,  are  familiar  to  every  schoolboy ; 
and  though  his  senseless  dust  has  forever  mingled  with  the 
elements,  it  is  perhaps  a  somewhat  retributive  justice  that 
nearly  every  visitor  pauses  before  the  imperishable  stone  to 
trace  out  in  the  sculptured  representation  of  the  features 
those  characteristics  that  placed  him  in  the  catalogue  of  the 
most  cruel  tyrants  and  bloodiest  of  men.  Among  others 
of  the  most  noted  busts  are  those  of  Titus,  who  conquered 
Jerusalem,  Vespasian,  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  Diocletian. 

Besides  the  Prometheus  Sarcophagus  before  referred  to, 
there  are  several  others  equally  interesting,  some  of  which 
I  can  hardly  pass  without  notice.  One  is  known  as  that  of 
the  Vigna  Amendola,  found  on  the  Via  Appia.  This  has 
carved  upon  its  front  a  fine  representation  of  a  battle 
between  the  Romans  and  the  Gauls,  with  the  general  of  the 
latter  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  in  the  act  of  stabbing 
himself,  probably  committing  suicide  at  the  mortification  of 
defeat.  Throughout  the  whole  scene  the  representation  is 
of  a  fierce  fight  between  Gauls  and  Romans,  and  the  story, 
as  told  by  the  sculptor,  is  that  the  victory  which  was  won 
by  the  Romans  was  one  dearly  bought,  for  representations 
of  slain  Romans,  as  well  as  their  enemies,  are  depicted  ;  and, 
in  the  rush  and  throng  of  intermingling  hosts,  Gaul  and 
Roman  vie  with  each  other  in  deeds  of  valor ;  but  Gallic 
prisoners  in  fetters,  women  and  children  in  tears,  and  other 
indications,  are  of  Roman  conquest.  It  is  thought  to  rep- 
resent a  battle  before  Pisa,  b.  c.  225,  where  a  Gallic  chief 
killed  himself  as  above   described,  and  a  Roman  consul  fell 


THE    KNDTMION    SARCOPHAGUS.  153 

in  the  fight,  which  hitter  act  is  also  depicted  among'  the 
figures  of  the  group. 

A  still  more  celebrated  sarcophagus  is  that  which  was  dis- 
covered underground  by  some  farm  laborers,  and  in  which, 
on  being  opened,  was  found  the  celebrated  Portland  Vase 
now  in  the  British  Museum.  The  fine  bas-reliefs  upon  this 
are  illustrative  of  scenes  in  the  history  of  Achilles.  On  one 
of  the  ends  he  is  shown  as  discovered  by  Ulysses  among  the 
daughters  of  Lycomedes  of  Sycros,  where  he  has  revealed 
his  sex  by  choosing  the  sword  out  of  all  the  other  orna- 
ments offered  by  Ulysses,  which  were  for  female  use.  Upon 
another  side  we  find  Ulysses  again,  and  in  the  act  of  rousing 
Achilles  to  avenge  the  death  of  Patrocles  ;  upon  another, 
his  departure  ;  and  on  the  third,  Priam  at  the  feet  of  the 
great  warrior  entreating  of  him  the  dead  body  of  Ilector, 
and  bringing  a  carload  of  gifts  as  ransom  therefor.  The 
ashes  which  were  found  in  this  sarcophagus  were  supposed 
to  be  those  of  Alexander  Severus,  who  was  killed,  a.  d.  235, 
and  his  mother,  Julia  Mammea. 

The  Endymion  Sarcophagus,  which  is  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Faun,  is  another  one  of  these  remarkable  monuments  upon 
which  mythological  fable  is  depicted  ;  this  was  found  under 
the  high  altar  of  the  church  of  St.  Eustace,  in  the  time  of 
Pope  Clement  XL,  between  HOO  and  1711.  The  front  part 
of  this  is  illustrated  with  the  story  of  Endymion,  who  is 
represented  rapt  in  slumber,  and  Diana,  who  is  stepping 
from  her  chariot,  is  gazing  admiringly  upon  him  ;  above  is  an 
allegorical  figure,  representing ^leep.  At  the  left,  Diana  has 
re-entered  her  chariot,  and  the  horses  are  springing  forward 
at  the  start ;  a  female  figure,  half  shrouded  b}^  a  cloud  of 
night,  looks  upward  at  the  departing  goddess,  and  between 
the  two  groups  is  Mount  Latmos,  with  sheep  and  goats,  and 
an  altar  to  the  god  Pan  depicted  upon  it.  The  cover  has 
five  sections  of  sculpture  representing  the  life  of  husband 
and  wife,  the  death  of  the  latter,  and  her  entrance  into  the 
Elysian  Fields. 


154  A   YOUTHFUL    PRODIGY. 

That  wliich  is  known  as  the  Amazon  Sarcophag-us  is 
remarkable  for  the  great  beauty  and  rare  excellence  of  its 
alto  and  basso  relievos ;  inside  it,  besides  the  ashes  of  the 
deceased,  there  were  discovered  petrified  balsam,  a  gold 
ring  with  an  emerald  stone  set  therein,  and  a  round  gai'net. 
The  bas-reliefs  represent  battles  of  the  Amazons,  depicted 
in  spirited  style,  the  battles  being  between  Amazons  and 
Athenians,  one  of  the  most  commanding  figures  clad  in 
cuirass  and  helmet  being  designated  as  Theseus,  the  slayer 
of  that  half  bull,  half  man,  mythological  creation,  Minotaur. 
Upon  the  cover  the  carved  figures  of  captive  Amazons  are 
excellently  represented  ;  and  this  sarcophagus  is  considered 
important  archasological  authority,  inasmuch  as  the  arms 
represented  upon  it  as  used  by  the  combatants  are  a  per- 
fect illustration  of  those  described  by  Plutarch  as  used  by 
the  Amazons. 

The  last  of  these  interesting  sepulchral  monuments  that 
I  shall  occupy  the  reader's  attention  with  is  one  that  had 
but  quite  recently  been  placed  in  the  museum,  and  which 
stood  at  the  time  of  the  author's  visit  in  the  centre  of  the 
Hall  of  Bronzes.  It  was  discovered  in  1870.  This  monu- 
ment is  one  which  was  erected  about  a.  d.  96  to  a  youthful 
prodigy  named  Quintus  Sulpicius  Maximus,  so  the  inscrip- 
tion informs  us,  who  died  at  the  early  age  of  eleven  years 
and  five  months,  but  who  was  possessed  of  such  extraordi- 
nary talent  that  he  gained  the  prize  for  Greek  verses  over 
fift3'-two  other  competitors. 

One  of  the  honors  of  this  victory  consisted  in  the  suc- 
cessful competitor  being  crowned  by  the  emperor  with  an 
oak-leaf  crown,  fastened  with  strings  of  gold,  at  the  Capitol, 
in  presence  of  the  people.  This  tomb,  wliich  is  a  sort  of 
architectural  structure,  has  a  statuette  of  the  youth  in  a 
kind  of  niche  ;  he  stands  holding  a  roll  of  manuscript  in  one 
hand,  while  the  other  is  raised  in  the  attitude  of  speaking. 
The  pilasters  on  each  side  of  the  statuette  are  covered  with 
Greek  verses,  which  are  understood  to  be  those  of  the  poem 


PRESERVERS    OF    ART.  155 

for  which  the  youth  received  the  prize  ;  the  subject  being', 
"  The  arguments  of  Jove  in  reproving  the  Sun  for  in- 
trusting his  chariot  to  Phaeton.''  Poor  boy  I  he  evidently, 
like  many  of  the  present  day,  cultivated  his  mental  at  the 
sacrifice  of  his  physical  strength,  and  gained  intellectual 
fame  at  the  expense  of  life  itself. 

But  there  is  yet  a  wealth  of  other  sculpture  to  see  be- 
sides the  portrait-busts  of  Roman  emperors  :  the  stories  of 
mj^thology  in  marble,  the  magnificent  sarcophagi  and  vases, 
and  the  full-length,  graceful  statues  of  gods,  goddesses, 
nymphs,  fauns,  and  athletes,  that  once  enriched  the  glorious 
old  city,  and  contributed  to  make  it  indeed  the  wonder  of 
the  world. 

Dug  up  from  old  temples,  delved  from  among  shattered 
colnmns,  or  dredged  from  the  river's  bed,  where  they  have 
been  hurled  by  the  invading  host  of  Goths  and  Vandals,  or 
the  destructive  hand  of  the  spoiler,  come  these  often  ex- 
quisite works  of  the  ancient  sculptor's  chisel,  which  those 
of  modern  times  strive  in  vain  to  rival. 

If  our  indignation  is  sometimes  aroused  at  the  ruthless 
manner  in  which  some  of  the  old  popes  destroyed  the  mag- 
nificent temples  of  ancient  Rome  to  decorate  or  build  up 
their  own  modern  structures,  and-  perpetuate  their  own 
names  at  the  expense  of  those  interesting  monuments  of 
antiquity,  it  is  somewhat  appeased  by  the  efforts  which  their 
successors  of  a  more  modern  date  appear  to  have  put  forth 
for  the  preservation  of  the  fine  specimens  of  ancient  art 
that  remain,  are  discovered,  or  dug  out  from  the  ruins  over 
which  modern  Rome  is  built.  This  Capitoline  Museum, 
which  was  begun  by  Pope  Clement  XII.  in  1730,  and  aug- 
mented by  his  immediate  successors  down  to  Leo  XII.,  and 
•with  occasional  additions  and  improvements  to  the  present 
time,  is  an  indication  of  this  desire  to  rescue  and  preserve 
to  the  modern  world  and  art  student  these  priceless  relics 
of  antiquity. 

One   almost  wants   a  condensed  history  of  Rome  for  a 


156  HALL    OF    THE    CENTAURS. 

hand-book,  as  "Murray"  and  the  other  guide-books  g-ive 
but  the  mere  names  of  statues  and  sculptures  iu  the  muse- 
ums, taking  it  for  granted,  I  suppose,  that  all  who  visit 
Rome  are  sufficiently  well  read  not  to  require  explanation, 
or  perhaps,  what  is  the  more  correct  reason,  that  fuller 
cxpUmation  would  require  too  much  space.  I  have  endeav- 
ored, therefore,  in  my  own  notes  to  give  those  historic 
associations  which  invested  certain  objects  of  antiquity 
with  additional  interest  to  myself.  Doubtless  the  facts  may 
be  well  known  to  many  readers,  but,  even  if  so,  it  will  do 
no  harm  to  strengthen  memory  by  repetition. 

The  Hall  of  the  Centaurs  is  so  called  from  two  mag- 
nificently carved  figures  of  Centaurs  in  dark  marble  which 
were  found  among  the  ruins  of  Hadrian's  villa.  The  marble 
appears  to  be  of  extraordinary  hardness,  and  susceptible  of 
a  beautiful  polish  ;  and  the  faces  of  the  Centaurs,  and  the 
sculpture  of  the  hair  of  their  heads,  and  in  fact  all  the 
minor  details,  prove  that  their  sculptors  were  masters  of 
their  art.  Close  inspection  shows  that  each  of  these  figures 
has  been  cleverly  joined  together,  and  the  hand-books  tell 
us  they  were  broken  in  fragments  when  first  discovered 
among  the  ruins.  They  are  among  the  most  interesting 
specimens  of  sculpture  in  the  museum,  as  regards  the  skill 
in  which  they  are  wrought  in  every  detail,  and  are  full  of 
life  and  expression.  The  marks  upon  their  backs  show  that 
they  were  originally  ridden  by  Cupids,  and  a  copy  of  one 
of  them  in  white  marble,  found  near  the  Church  of  St. 
Stefano,  Rome,  which  is  now  in  the  Museum  of  the  Louvre 
at  Paris,  has  the  Cupid  which  is  preserved,  still  upon  its 
back.  The  youngest  of  these  Centaurs  has  the  skin  of  an 
animal  he  has  slain  swung  over  his  arm,  a  crooked  club 
upon  his  shoulder,  and,  with  one  hand  upraised  as  he  trots* 
gayly  along,  is  one  of  the  most  spirited  statues  I  ever 
looked  upon,  and  one  the  admirable  execution  and  finish  of 
which  draws  you  to  it  again  and  again  to  view  and  admire. 

Next,  iu  the    Hall  of   Philosophers,  as    in    that    of  the 


THE    DYING    GLADIATOR.  157 

Emperors,  the  enthusiast  may  look  upon  portraits  of  those 
thinkers  of  antiquity  whose  words  they  have  read,  studied, 
and  perhaps  g-roaned  over  in  student  life.  Here  are  Soc- 
rates, Aristides,  whom  the  voter  could  not  bear  to  hear  called 
"the  Just,"  and  old  Diogenes  of  tub  and  lantern  notoriety, 
and  mechanical  Archimedes,  Demosthenes  the  orator,  Soph- 
ocles, Euripides  the  celebrated  Greek  tragic  poet,  and 
Thucydides  the  Athenian  historian ;  also  a  bust  of  Julian 
the  Apostate  (Flavins  Claudius  Julianus),  so  called,  as  will 
be  remembered,  because,  although  a  nephew  of  Constantino, 
he  returned  to  the  worship  of  the  pagan  gods,  and  endeav- 
ored to  restore  the  old  religion. 

I  will  not  tire  the  reader  with  descriptions  of  beautiful 
bas-reliefs  of  mythological  story,  according  to  Ovid,  in  this 
hall,  or  those  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda,  and  the  Rape  of 
Hylas  in  the  next ;  but  hurry  on  to  that  marvellous  work 
of  art,  one  of  the  great  sculptures  of  antiquity,  that  is  one 
of  the  magnets  of  Rome  and  one  of  the  art  gems  of  the 
world,  —  "  The  Dying  Gladiator." 

I  am  not  going    to    quote    B3Ton's    celebrated    stanzas, 

although,  if  the  sculptor  had  desired  to  have  had  the  story 

he  has  told  in  marble  reproduced  in  poetry,  it  could  not 

have   been   more   perfectly  done.      Neither  am   I   going  to 

repeat  the  explanation  respecting  the  figure  being  that  of  a 

d3ang  Gaul,  and  not  a  gladiator.      It  was  always  a  gladiator 

to   me,  and  I   have  so  pictured  his  fight  in  Rome's  great 

circus,  — 

' '  Face  to  face 
With  death  and  with  the  Roman  populace,"  — 

the  desperate  struggle  which  he  must  have  made  for  life 
and  victory,  and  the  thoughts  of  far-off  home,  wife,  and 
children,  as  he  leans  upon  his  hand,  while  "the  arena  swims 
around  him  "  as  he  grows  giddy  from  the  loss  of  the  life- 
blood  tliat  ebbs  from  his  heart,  —  I  have  cherished  this  ver- 
sion of  the  story  of  the  statue  so  long,  that  it  will  be  ever 
the   Dying  Gladiator   to  me.     How  I  enjoyed  this  perfect 


158  THE    MARBLE    FAUN". 

piece  of  sculpture,  that  not  only  enlists  but  absorbs  the 
attention,  possessing  that  marvellously  attractive  power 
owing  to  its  dramatic  character  and  its  story,  which  it  tells 
so  distinctly  in  attitude  and  expression,  that  you  insensi- 
bly wait  with  bated  breath  to  see  the  arm  which  supports 
the  dying  man,  as  he  droops  his  head  in  agony,  I'elax,  and 
his  dead  body  fall  jDrostrate  upon  the  slneld  beneath  him  ! 

How  marvellously  correct  in  anatomical  detail,  how  sim- 
ple and  grand  in  conception  and  execution  !  How  patiently 
must  the  sculptor  of  this  wondrous  work  have  studied  the 
efi'ect  of  tlie  gradual  approach  of  death  upon  the  human 
frame,  to  have  delineated  it  in  this  figure  so  perfectly  that 
one  feels  as  "if  he  stood  in  the  very  presence  of  the  dread 
destroyer  ! 

Fortunate  indeed  for  us  who  came  after  him  was  it  the 
poet  wrote  those  grand  stanzas  that  make  us  appreciate, 
take  in,  and  enjoy  the  subject  with  a  pleasure  that  fills  the 
soul  with  a  grander  appreciation  of  it  as  we  link  immortal 
verse  to  glorious  sculpture. 

But  one  wonder  follows  on  another's  heels,  and  I  stand 
opposite  another  great  work  of  art,  but  of  different  char- 
acter, in  this  same  hall.  It  is  the  statue  known  as  the 
"  Faun  of  Praxiteles," — the  marble  faun  that  Hawthorne 
wrote  of.  Ah,  how  much  do  we  owe  to  these  poets  and 
authors  !  This  figure,  so  decided  a  contrast  to  the  one  we 
have  just  been  looking  upon,  none  the  less  beautiful  in  its 
character,  is  that  of  a  youthfully  delicate  young  man  of 
exquisite  mould,  standing  in  easy  attitude,  leaning  against 
a  tree,  his  left  hand  resting  carelessly  upon  his  hip,  the 
right  holding  a  flute,  while  over  his  right  shoulder  is 
thrown  tiie  lion-skin  with  head  and  claws  on. 

The  easy  attitude  of  this  figure  is  perfection  itself;  the 
grace  of  the  pose,  as  well  as  its  naturalness,  is  wonderful, 
as  is  the  expression  of  countenance  ;  the  features,  marble 
though  they  are,  seem  just  on  the  point  of  breaking  into  a 
l)leasant  smile,  —  so  much   so   that  you   can  scarcely  help 


CLASSIC  EUIXS.  159 

smiling  yourself  at  the  rog-uish,  handsome  young  man,  who 
seems  to  have  paused  for  a  moment  in  his  sj'lvan  ramble  to 
gaze  pleasantly  at  you  with  an  easy  nonchalance  that  makes 
one  all  but  forget  the  wondrous  skill,  and  careful,  patient 
labor  that  must  have  been  required  to  produce  from  sense- 
less stone  anything  so  like  a  living  figure. 

Another  faun  is  the  one  in  a  room  known  as  the  Hall 
of  the  Faun,  —  a  figure  found  in  Hadrian's  villa,  which  ap- 
pears t©  have  been  prolific  in  good  things,  if  we  may  judge 
from  the  number  that  have  been  discovered  there  by  modern 
antiquarian  searchers. 

This  beautiful  statue  is  of  red  marble,  and  represents  one 
of  those  mythical  beings,  a  faun,  holding  aloft  a  bunch  of 
grapes  with  its  right  hand,  the  skin  of  an  animal  being 
thrown  over  the  left  arm  ;  the  graceful  pose,  easy,  natural 
attitude,  and  wonderful  execution  of  details  in  the  work, 
like  that  of  its  fellow-statues,  marking  it  as  the  creation  of 
a  master-hand,  and  conveying  an  impression  of  lightness, 
ease,  and  grace  that  one  can  hardly  associate  with  a  marble 
statue.  The  pedestal  used  for  this  figure  is  a  votive  altar 
to  Jupiter  found  in  174:5  on  the  Via  Appia,  and  is  hand- 
somely sculptured  with  representations  of  sacrificial  cer- 
emonies and  emblematical   figures. 

We  leave  the  Capituline  Hill,  descend  a  flight  of  steps, 
pass  along  till  we  come  to  a  point  that  commands  a  view 
of  a  ruin  of  three  beautiful  Corinthian  columns,  one  of 
Rome's  ruined  triumphal  arches,  and  further  on  ruined  pil- 
lars upholding  a  temple's  lofty  facade.  I  descended  into 
a  large,  open  space  that  was  below  the  street-level ;  above 
me  rose  the  Capitol  I  had  just  quitted,  the  stronghold  of 
Romulus,  the  temple  of  Tarquin  the  Proud,  and  glory  of 
the  emperors,  the  birthplace  of  an  empire  that  existed  for 
nearly  nineteen  hundred  years.  And  this  spot  that  I  now 
stand  upon,  which  has  been  overwhelmed  by  an  additional 
crust  of  earth  and  ruins,  like  all  the  rest  of  old  Rome,  — 
why,  this  must  be  classic  ground.     These  graceful  pillars  I 


160  THE    ROMAN    FORUM. 

recognize  as  the  originals  of  bronze  reproductions,  pictures, 
and  photographs, — tlie  columns  of  the  Temple  of  Vespa- 
sian ;  and  near  at  hand  the  eight  Ionic  columns  uphold 
what  is  left  of  the  portico  of  the  Temple  of  Saturn,  the 
ancient  god  of  the  Capitol.  Let  us  recall  that  here,  before 
this  very  temple,  once  sat  Pompey  and  listened  to  the  ora- 
tions of  Cicero. 

Cicero  !  The  Roman  Forum  !  AVe  must  be  in  that  birth- 
place of  Roman  law,  celebrated  for  the  wisdom  6f  great 
statesmen,  and  the  eloquence  of  great  orators.  To  be  sure, 
the  hand  of  time  has  gradually  heaped  the  soil  each  suc- 
ceeding century,  till  now  it  is  twenty-four  feet  above  that 
of  old  Rome.  It  has  overthrown  temples,  arches,  rostra, 
and  columns,  till  but  a  few  crumbling  relics  remain,  — 
enough  to  excite  curiosity,  and  evoke  contests  between 
antiquaries.  An  illustrious  spot  indeed  is  the  Roman 
Forum,  and  every  foot  of  the  ground  about  us  teems  with 
associations  of  historic  interest. 

"  Who,"  —  writes  George  S.  Ilillaixl,  the  well-known 
classic  scholar,  in  his  "  Six  Months  in  Italy,"  —  "  who  that 
has  the  least  sense  of  what  the  present  owes  to  the  past,  can 
approach  such  a  spot  without  reverence  and  enthusiasm  ? 
Especially,  what  member  of  the  legal  profession,  unless  his 
heart  be  dry  as  parchment,  and  worn  as  the  steps  of  a 
court-house,  can  fail  to  do  homage  to  the  genius  of  a 
place  where  jurisprudence  was  reared  into  a  perfect  system, 
while  Druids  were  yet  cutting  the  mistletoe  on  the  site  of 
Westminster  Hall?" 

And  why  is  it  not  a  sacred  place  to  a  scholar,  a  student, 
a  schoolboy,  a  reader  even, — one  of  the  most  remarkable 
spots  upon  the  earth,  crammed  with  events,  with  actions 
that  had  their  birth  here,  and  that  for  fifteen  centuries  had 
so  marked  an  influence  upon  the  whole  civilized  world? 
In  fact  it  was  here,  when  the  power  of  Rome  was  at  its 
height,  that  the  destinies  of  the  world  were  discussed.  Like 
the  hill  of  the  Capitol,  the  names  of  successive  structures 


THE    ROSTRUM.  161 

that  have  come  down  to  us  in  history  as  having-  occupied 
tliis  space  —  which  was  about  four  acres,  the  Forum  being- 
one  hundred  and  eighty  yards  long  by  seventy  broad  —  are 
so  numerous  that  antiquaries  are  sadly  at  a  loss  where  to 
place  many  of  them. 

The  supposition  of  tliose  not  familiar  with  Eoman  his- 
tory is,  that  the  Forum  was  simply  a  place  of  orators, 
instead  of  what  it  really  was,  a  court  of  justice,  public 
exchang-e,  house  of  representatives,  public  square,  market- 
place, and  political  hall  of  assembly,  all  rolled  into  one. 
Here  the  popular  representatives  of  the  plebeians,  the 
people,  assembled  and  discussed  political  matters,  and  here 
the  great  orators  harangued  them.  Here  Cato,  Cicero, 
Caesar,  and  Marc  Antony  have  spoken  ;  indeed,  this  spot, 
from  the  time  of  Romulus  down  to  Augustus,  was  the  very 
heart  of  the  Roman  empire,  the  pulsations  of  which  were 
felt  throughout  the  whole  world. 

I  stood  looking'  up  at  the  modern  Capitol,  resting  upon 
its  great  structure  of  broad  blocks  of  stone  called  the  tahu- 
larium,  one  of  the  earliest  architectural  relics  of  Rome, 
and  then  passing  over  near  to  it,  stood  on  the  site  of  the 
tribune,  the  pulpit,  or  rostrum  from  which  the  orators  spoke 
to  the  people,  now  a  sort  of  semicircular  wall  faced  with 
marble.  Here  is  where  Cicero  w4th  his  magic  eloquence 
swayed  the  Roman  people  at  will,  —  a  glorious  speaker,  a 
philosopher,  and  man  of  culture.  Here  was  where  he 
spoke  to  hushed  crowds  of  the  populace,  and  pronounced 
his  stinging  speeches  against  Antony.  And  here  is  where, 
in  spirit  of  mean,  dastardly  revenge,  Antony  placed  his 
head  and  hands  after  his  inhuman  murder ;  and  Fulvia,  the 
widow  of  Clodius,  revenged  herself  against  the  bitter,  un- 
palatable truths  that  had  been  uttered  by  the  bold,  fearless 
tongue,  by  piercing  it  with  a  pin  she  wore  in  her  hair,  and 
spitting  in  the  dead  face,  the  gaze  of  which,  when  living, 
had  looked  into  the  bloody  deeds  of  such  as  she,  and  ex- 
posed them  to  public  gaze.  Here  also  the  head  of  Octavius 
11 


162  THE    NAMELESS    COLUMN". 

was  placed  by  Marius,  and  perhaps  it  was  in  imitation  of 
the  old  Romans  that  the  more  modern  English  put  con- 
demned heads  on  the  spikes  of  Temple  Bar, 

We  may  go  on  a  short  distance  beyond  the  Arch  of 
Septimius  Scverus  to  the  site  of  the  Temple  of  Concord,  and 
there  recite  the  orations  of  Cicero  against  Catiline  before  the 
senate  upon  the  very  spot  whore  they  were  delivered ;  and 
it  was  here  in  the  Forum,  not  far  from  the  rostrum,  that  the 
survivor  of  the  Horatii  was  condemned  to  death  but  saved 
by  the  overwhelming  voice  of  the  people,  who  refused  to 
part  with  their  brave  champion.  I  walk  a  little  further  and 
fii"id  a  sort  uf  square  platform  of  rock,  the  remains  of  the 
lower  fragment  of  some  temple-wall,  apparentl3^  but  really 
the  site  of  the  Altar  of  Vulcan,  near  which  sat  Brutus  when 
he  saw  with  stern  justice  his  own  sons  led  to  execution. 

Moving  out  towards  the  middle  of  the  Forum,  we  make 
our  way  over  debris  and  by  a  devious  path  to  the  foot  of  a 
tall  column,  a  handsome  Corinthian  pillar,  the  excavation  of 
which  knocked  over  the  theories  of  antiquaries  and  scholars 
completely,  —  the  column  of  Phocas.  Nobody  thought  of 
Phocas,  or  of  a  column  to  him.      Byron  called  it 

"  The  nameless  column  Avith  a  buried  base ;  " 

but  when  the  "  buried  base  "  was  brought  to  light,  lo  and 
behold,  the  inscription  showed  it  to  be,  not,  as  was  sup- 
posed, part  of  a  building.  Temple  of  Vulcan,  or  Bridge  of 
Caligula,  but  a  column  erected  in  608,  with  its  base  resting 
on  the  actual  pavement  of  the  Forum. 

A  superb  spectacle  the  Roman  Forum  must  have  pre- 
sented, with  its  beaiitiful  temples,  statues,  and  triumphal 
arches,  when  in  its  prime,  as  oue  may  easily  imagine  from 
these  veriest  fragments  that  the  destroying  hand  of  time  has 
left  us.  The  Via  Sacra,  or  sacred  way  itself,  upon  one  side 
of  the  space,  with  its  magnificent  marble  arches  at  each  end 
of  the  line,  was  where  the  grand  triumphal  processions  of 
Rome's  emperors  and  generals  came  after  their  bloody  raids 


THE    AECH    OF    TITUS.  163 

(for  they  were  little  else)  upon  distant  nations  ;  here, 
chained  barbarians,  as  they  passed  along,  gazed  upon  the 
evidences  of  the  wealth  and  power  of  their  scarcely  less 
barbarous,  certainly  none  the  less  cruel  conquerors. 

These  triumphal  arches  are  magnificent  relics  of  Rome's 
luxur}',  power,  and  art,  and  the  visitor  cannot  help  realizing 
it  as  he  stands  before  that  most  beautiful  one,  the  Arch  of 
Titus,  commemorating  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and 
being,  therefore,  interesting  from  its  connection  with  Scrip- 
ture history,  and  its  bas-reliefs,  which  have  furnished  designs 
for  many  illustrations  for  modern  editions  of  the  Bible  and 
Scripture  history. 

For  upon  its  white  marble  piers  are  elaborate  representa- 
tions of  the  costly  spoils  of  the'  sacred  city  of  the  Jews, 
which  the  conqueror  brought  home  to  Rome,  —  the  familiar 
seven-branched  candlestick,  golden  table  of  shew-bread, 
trumpets  of  the  jubilee,  &c.  ;  and  we  find  that  the  descrip- 
tion of  old  Josephus,  read  in  boyhood,  is  correct,  and  that 
the  woodcut  illustration  of  the  great  holy  candlestick,  which 
is  represented  in  the  old  pictorial  editions  of  the  book, 
is  the  exact  counterpart  of  that  sculptured  upon  this  arch, 
which  the  slaves  $nd  soldiers  are  bearing  upon  their  shoul- 
ders in  the  triumphal  procession. 

Upon  this  arch  is  also  represented  the  conquering  em- 
peror returning  from  Jerusalem  in  his  chariot  surrounded  by 
his  troops,  holding  his  sceptre  in  one  hand  and  a  palm 
branch  in  the  other,  while  a  figure  of  Victory  is  in  the  act 
of  placing  the  laurel  wreath  upon  his  brow.  The  face  of 
the  figure  of  Titus  is  almost  completely  destroyed  ;  muti- 
lated, it  is  said,  by  stones  cast  at  it  by  the  Jews  whose 
defeat  and  subjugation  this  arch  commemorates.  Indeed, 
to  this  day  it  is  averred  that  no  Jew  will  pass  beneath  this 
memento  of  the  Roman  conqueror's  victory,  either  in  their 
walks  or  business,  but  go  around  it ;  for  it  perpetuates  the 
memory  of  their  wrongs  and  the  name  of  their  oppressor. 
And  farther  beyond  is  the  great  Colosseum,  where  he  pressed 


164  ARCH    OF    SEPTIMIUS    SEVEUUS. 

them  with  such  seventy  that  the  Hebrew  laborers  went 
down  by  thousands  beneath  the  taskmaster's  whip,  and  the 
more  wealthy  were  squeezed  a  few  years  after  by  Domitian, 
his  brotlier,  until  the  last  coin  that  persecution  could  wring- 
from  them  was  obtained. 

The  arch  is  a  pag-e  of  marble  history,  —  verified  history, 
unlike  many  other  Roman  ruins,  — seventeen  hundred  years 
old  ;  and,  though  many  may  prefer  the  construction  of  the 
Arch  of  Constantino  to  the  more  simple  and  solid  stjde  of 
tliis,  they  can  hardly  examine  the  sculptured  decorations 
with  so   much  interest. 

This  arcli,  when  in  its  prime,  and  with  the  beautiful  white 
marble  of  which  it  is  constructed  shining-  in  the  sunlight, 
must  have  presented  a  splendid  appearance.  It  is  exactly 
as  high  as  it  is  long,  being  fifty  feet  in  height  and  fifty  feet 
long.  The  width  of  the  passage,  or  single  arched  opening, 
is  nineteen  feet,  and  the  thickness  or  breadtli  of  the  ai'ch 
sixteen  and  one-half  feet.  This  arch  and  the  Colosseum, 
which  Titus  completed  and  opened,  remind  us  that  we  used 
to  read  that  he  was  an  industrious  emperor,  and  that  it  was 
he  who  said,  after  a  day  of  leisure,  "  I  have  lost  a  day." 

The  three  best  preserved  and  most  interesting  arches  in 
Rome  are  those  I  have  referred  to  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  the  Forum  and  by  the  side  of  the  way  over  which  the 
victorious  triumphs  passed,  namely  :  that  of  Titus  just  de- 
scribed, and  those  of  Constantine  and  Septimius  Severus. 

The  last-named  arch  is  smallest  of  the  three,  and  its  base 
rests  on  what  was  the  ancient  level  of  the  Forum,  giving 
the  visitor  who  descends  to  it  an  idea  of  the  change  that 
has  occurred  in  grade  since  the  days  of  old  Rome.  This 
arch  was  erected  to  commemorate  the  victories  of  Severus 
over  the  Parthians,  Arabs,  and  various  Eastern  tribes,  a.  d. 
203.  It  has  one  grand  central  passage,  and  two  side  or 
lesser  ones.  It  was  of  pure  Avhite  marble,  and  when  in  its 
perfect  state  had  a  group  of  sculpture  upon  the  top,  con- 
sisting of  a  triumphal  car  drawn  by  six  horses.     In  the  car, 


THE    AECH    OF    CONSTANTINE.  165 

says  one  authority,  stood  statues  of  the  emperor  and  his 
sons,  Caracalla  and  Geta,  though  the  guide-books  say  it 
was  a  bronze  chariot  with  a  figure  of  Severus  being  crowned 
by  Victory.  I  am  of  the  opinion  of  the  historian,  how- 
ever ;  who  puts  the  two  brothers  in  the  chariot,  as  they 
erected  the  arch,  and  would  hardly  let  this  opportunity  of 
gratifying  their  Roman  vanity  pass.  Geta  was  murdered  by 
Caracalla  when  he  succeeded  to  the  imperial  purple,  and  in 
the  inscription  on  the  structure  Geta's  name  was  erased  by 
his  brother. 

This  arch  has  also  four  elegant  columns  on  each  side  of  its 
fronts.  The  sculptures  upon  it  appear  to  delineate  the  wars 
of  Severus,  and  groups  of  warriors  in  battles,  sieges,  coun- 
cils, and  marches,  figure  conspicuously.  One  scene  repre- 
sents the  siege  of  a  city  in  which  the  battering-ram  is  being- 
worked  most  effectively  upon  the  walls  of  the  enemy. 
However,  the  guide  books  pretend  to  tell  and  enumerate  all 
the  scenes  in  the  life  of  the  emperor  which  these  sculptures 
represent.  The  arch  to  his  honor  perpetuates  his  name, 
which  is  also  recognized  as  that  of  one  of  the  most  cruel 
persecutors  of  the  Christians  ;  still,  he  was  a  tolerable  em- 
peror for  Rome,  as  emperors  went  in  thuse  days,  and  had 
eighteen  years  of  power.  The  reason  why  he  caused  com- 
paratively less  blood  to  flow  in  Rome  than  some  of  his  pre- 
decessors may  have  been  from  the  fact  that  his  active 
employment  in  Britain,  and  with  other  powers  that  he  was 
continually  combating,  kept  him  too  busily  employed. 

The  Arch  of  Constantine,  which  every  visitor  to  Rome  will 
remember  as  standing  near  the  Colosseum,  seems  to  be  the 
best  preserved  and  finest  of  the  three  ;  but  many  of  its 
sculptures  and  bas-reliefs  are  known  to  have  been  those 
which  were  carved  to  honor  an  emperor  who  flourished  two 
centuries  before  Constantine,  —  Trajan,  —  as  they  were 
taken  from  an  arch  formerly  existing,  erected  to  that  em- 
peror and  placed  upon  this,  which  is  now  one  of  the  best 
preserved  and  most  interesting  monuments  in  Rome,  apart 


166  BORROWED    SCULPTURE. 

from  its  antiquity,  —  having  been  dedicated  to  the  first 
Christian  sovereign. 

The  inscription  sets  forth  that  the  senate  and  Roman 
people  have  dedicated  this  triumphal  arch  to  the  emperor, 
because  he,  with  the  greatness  of  his  mind  and  with  his  just 
arms,  at  the  same  time  revenged  the  state  on  the  tyrant  and 
on  his  (the  tyrant's)  political  party.  The  sculptures,  how- 
ever, represent  Trajan  (not  Constantino)  entering  Rome  ; 
offering  sacrifices  to  the  gods,  (which  a  Christian  emperor 
of  course  did  not  do  ;)  Trajan's  triumph  over  the  king  of 
Armenia,  &c. 

This  arch  has  one  central  and  two  side  arches,  and  had 
four  elegant  Corinthian  columns  on  each  front.  The  fine 
sculptures  are  on  the  attic  above  the  great  arch,  in  two 
medallions  over  each  of  the  smaller  arches  ;  and  there  are 
flying  figures  with  trophies  immediately  over  the  great  arch, 
besides  friezes  and  bas-reliefs  on  the  sides  by  the  smaller 
arches,  and  carved  allegorical  figures  at  the  base  of  each 
Corinthian  pillar.  The  lower  bas-reliefs  on  the  arch  are  of 
the  deeds  of  Constantino,  but  are  far  inferior  in  execution 
to  those  above,  which  were  plundered  from  the  Tra-jan  arch, 
the  ruins  of  which  existed  down  to  1430,  according  to  his- 
torical accounts ;  thus  it  appears  that  even  in  Constantino's 
time  the  example  of  appropriating  the  monuments  of  their 
predecessors  for  their  own  glorification  was  set,  which  mod- 
ern popes  of  Rome  have  in  many  instances  faithfully  fol- 
lowed. Clement  VIII.  appropriated  one  of  the  eight  Co- 
rinthian columns  of  this  arch,  and  carried  it  away  to  finish  a 
chapel  with. 

It  may  be  well  here  to  remind  the  reader  that  the  Arc 
de  Triomphe  du  Carrousel,  situated  in  front  of  the  principal 
entrance  to  the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries,  in  Paris,  erected  by 
Napoleon  I.  in  1806,  is  an  imitation  of  the  Arch  of  Severus. 

We  could  not  leave  the  Capitoline  Hill  and  Roman  Fo- 
rum without  a  visit  to  that  hole  of  horrors,  the  Marmetine 
Prison,  an  historic   dungeon  with  which  are   connected   so 


THE    MAEMETINE    PRISOX.  167 

many  associations  that  one  docs  not  like  to  miss  it  among 
the  list  of  sights  to  be  seen.  There  is  but  little  doubt 
expi'essed  by  the  antiquaries  that  it  was  here,  after  being 
dragged  in  chains  behind  the  triumphal  chariot  of  Caius 
Marius,  where  Jugurtha  was  shut  up  and  starved  to  death. 
The  prison  now,  or  the  upper  part  of  it,  is  made  into  a  little 
church  or  oratory,  with  religious  emblems  and  votive  ofler- 
iiigs  hung  about ;  and  what  most  strikes  one,  as  he  sits  down 
and  waits  for  the  dirty  brown-frocked  monk  to  prepare  the 
greasy  tallow  candles  for  descent  into  the  lower  or  real 
dungeon,  are  the  massive  blocks  of  stone  of  which  the 
structure  is  composed  —  strength  enough  to  confine  a  Titan. 
In  ancient  times  there  was  no  staircase,  but  prisoners  were 
let  down  through  a  trap  door  or  hole  in  the  roof.  Now, 
however,  a  monk  (for  a  gratuity,  of  course)  shows  you 
down  a  flight  of  stone  steps  into  the  dungeon  described  by 
Livy  and  Sallust.  The  latter  describes  it  as  "a  place  about 
ten  feet  deep  surrounded  by  walls,  with  a  vaulted  roof  of 
stone  above  it."  The  dungeon  is  hemispherical  in  shape, 
and  about  twenty  feet  in  diameter,  although  it  seemed  of 
smaller  dimensions  to  me  in  the  brief  time  I  stayed,  and  the 
whole  appearance  of  the  place  was  as  fearful  and  dungeon- 
like as  the  most  vivid  imagination  could  desire.  Its  damp, 
cold,  pitiless  stones  have  been  witness  to  the  most  terrible 
scenes  of  torture  and  suffering,  for  the  visitor  here  stands 
within  the  inclosure  which,  built  four  or  five  centuries  before 
the  Csesars,  was  the  prison  where  Appius  Claudius,  the  em- 
peror who  endeavored  to  obtain  possession  of  the  daughter 
of  Virginius,  slew  himself  to  escape  the  vengeance  of  the 
people  ;  and  here  was  the  brave  Manlius  Capitolinus  im- 
mured, despite  his  services  to  his  countrymen,  which  weighed 
as  nothing  against  the  power  of  the  nobles.  Here,  as  the 
triumphs  turned  aside  after  their  grand  march  through  the 
city  and  Forum,  were  captive  kings  and  chiefs  plunged  after 
having  been  exhibited  as  a  spectacle  to  the  populace.  The 
alleged  accomplices  of  Catiline  were  strangled  in  this  gloomy 


168  THE  PRISON  OF  THE  APOSTLES. 

vault  by  order  of  Cicero,  who  came  forth  himself  bearing 
the  news  of  their  death  to  the  people  in  the  Forum,  exclaim- 
ing, in  answer  to  their  clamorous  inquiries,  "  Vixeruni  " 
(they  have  lived). 

A  cruel  cavern  it  is  indeed,  for  within  it  Julius  Cfesar 
basely  thrust  the  king  of  the  Gauls  who  surrendered  him- 
self voluntarily  to  save  his  people,  and,  after  keeping  him 
six  years  captive,  murdered  him  here.  Sejanus,  the  favorite 
of  Tiberius,  met  his  just  fate  within  these  walls  ;  and  Simon 
of  Goria,  the  last  brave  defender  of  Jerusalem,  after  being 
dragged  and  scourged  at  the  chariot-wheels  of  Titus,  in  his 
triumphal  entry  into  Rome,  also  yielded  up  his  life  upon  the 
floor  that  for  twenty-three  centuries  has  been  soaked  with 
the  blood  of  chieftains,  senators,  kings,  and  emperors. 

Yet  it  is  not  these  events  that  render  it  so  interesting  a 
spot  to  the  Christian  visitor,  for  it  was  here  that  Peter  and 
Paul  are  said  to  have  been  confined  for  nine  months  dui'ing 
their  imprisonment  in  Rome  ;  and  I  confess,  as  the  monk 
who  was  acting  as  our  cicerone  pointed  out  what  he  averred 
to  be  the  very  pillar  to  which  these  apostles  were  chained 
during  their  captivity,  that,  although  I  did  not  reverently 
kiss  it,  as  did  a  Roman  Catholic  of  the  party,  I  could  not 
leave  without  laying  my  liands  upon  the  spot  upon  which 
might  perhaps  have  rested  the  hands  of  those  who  had 
pressed  the  blessed  palm  of  Christ  within  their  own.  The 
little  fountain  or  well  in  the  floor,  the  Romish  Church  must, 
of  course,  ascribe  a  miraculous  origin  to  :  i\\ej  say  it  sprang 
up  at  the  bidding  of  the  two  apostles  for  them  to  baptize 
their  jailers  wliom  they  had  converted.  As  we  came  up 
the  staircase,  our  guide  also  called  attention  to  a  depression 
or  ind(Mitation  in  the  stone,  which  is  said  to  have  been  the 
impression  made  by  the  head  of  St.  Peter,  who  was  rudely 
thrust  against  it  by  his  jailer.  It  is  thus  the  Churcli  of 
Rome,  by  the  demand  for  such  credulity  as  this,  and  appeals 
to  the  most  ignorant,  really  tends  to  shake  historical  belief 
in  other  characteristics  of  ruins,  relics,  or  localities,  that  have 
a  certain  amount  of  authenticity. 


Trajan's  column.  169 

Chief  in  my  memory  of  this  horrid  prison,  however,  was 
that  it  had  been  the  dungeon  of  Jugurtha,  and  of  Peter  and 
Paul,  and  it  was  one  of  the  things  to  be  seen  in  visiting 
Rome  in  my  mind  years  before  this  experience.  Having 
accomplished  the  visit,  we  made  all  haste  to  leave  its  gloomy 
recesses  and  damp  atmosphere  which  Jugurtha  even  in  his 
day  compared  to  "  a  cold  bath,"  and  emerged  into  the 
upper  chambei-,  and  thence  once  more  into  the  more  genial 
atmosphere  and  under  the  cloudless  blue  sky  of  Italy,  all 
the  more  beautiful  in  contrast  with  the  gloomy  cavern  we 
had  quitted,  and  the  terrible  scenes  which  a  visit  to  it 
recalls. 

The  soil  of  modern  Rome  seems  to  be  an  earth  shroud 
over  the  remains  of  the  ancient  city  ;  and  to  get  at  the 
entrance  to  temples,  the  sites  of  forums,  and  the  court- 
yards of  palaces,  one  must  dig  down  through  the  dust  of 
centuries.  The  wave  of  earth  wells  up  over  the  steps  of 
the  Pantheon,  and  has  surged  its  billow  around  the  base 
of  the  Colosseum,  so  that  excavations  give  it  the  appear- 
ance of  being  surrounded  by  an  earth  work  thrown  up  from 
just  without  its  outer  barrier.  The  once  proud  Palace  of 
the  Caesars,  until  a  few  years  past,  slumbered  beneath  a 
flourishing  vineyard  ;  and  you  may  now,  curiously  enough, 
see  the  different  strata  of  Rome's  history,  as  it  were,  indi- 
cated in  the  structures  that  each  rise  above  the  other's 
ruins,  —  the  Wall  of  Romulus,  the  structures  of  Tarquin, 
the  Palace  of  Nero,  —  literally  one  atop  of  the  other. 

As  I  came,  one  day,  to  an  excavated  square,  with  serried 
rows  of  the  broken  lower  parts  of  columns  that  were  evi- 
dently the  fragments  of  some  ancient  temple,  I  knew,  as  I 
sat  down  upon  one  huge  shaft  that  seemed  long  since  to 
have  been  raised  from  the  excavated  area  below,  and  laid  in 
the  more  modern  street  alongside  the  rail  that  guarded  the 
brink,  that  I  was  looking  down  into  Trajan's  Forum.  I 
knew  it  by  the  tall,  graceful  column  that  stood  tliere  to  the 
memory  of  the  great  emperor.      Familiar  as  an  old  acquaint- 


170  A    BEAUTIFUL    MOXUMEXT. 

ance,  it  reared  its  tall  height,  wreathed  with  the  chronologi- 
cal story  of  his  victories,  and  brought  to  mind  its  counter- 
feit presentment  in  the  Place  Yendome  at  Paris  (erected  by 
a  great  emperor  of  modern  times,  ambitious  to  be  r'emom- 
bered  as  a  modern  Csesar),  and  by  monuments  of  a  similar 
description. 

Paris  did  not  have  to  wait  for  Goths  and  Vandals,  as  did 
Rome,  to  destroy  its  historical  monuments  that  in  recording 
the  deeds  of  their  great  emperor  preserved  alike  the  chron- 
icle of  the  bravery  and  victories  of  their  own  forefathers. 
No  !  Paris  had  its  own  barbarians  always  within  its  walls, 
who  were  ready  to  wrench  from  its  foundations  the  monu- 
ment of  cannon  conquered  from  the  enemy's  battlefield,  and 
prostrate  it  ignominiously  in  the  filth  of  the  street.  The 
ascendency  of  men  over  madmen,  however,  has  replaced  the 
modern  French  monument ;  and  the  old  Roman  one  to  Tra- 
jan, from  which  it  was  copied,  has  always  remained  firm 
upon  its  pedestal  since  raised  by  the  senate  and  the  Roman 
people,  A.  D.  114,  and  is  to-day  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
monuments  remaining  of  the  Eternal  City.  It  is  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty  feet  in  height,  and  composed  of  successive 
blocks  of  marble,  "  thirty-four  in  number,"  so  the  guide- 
books tell  us,  piled  one  upon  the  other.  These  are  covered 
by  a  spiral  band  of  carvings  or  bas-reliefs  from  the  base  of 
the  pillar  to  the  top,  the  carvings  ingeniously  and  gradually 
increased  in  size  from  two  feet  in  height  to  double  that  size 
as  they  near  the  top,  so  that  harmonious  proportions  are 
preserved  to  the  eye  of  the  spectator  from  below. 

The  figure  of  Trajan  holding  a  globe  in  his  hand  formerly 
crowned  the  summit ;  the  globe  is  now  in  the  Hall  of  Bronzes 
at  the  Capitoline  Museum,  and  Trajan's  figure  is  replaced 
by  a  statue  of  St.  Peter  upon  the  column.  This  ought  to 
be  removed  and  the  emperor's  statue  restored,  that  it  might 
be  a  less  incongruous  specimen  of  antiquity  ;  for  the  apos- 
tolic statue  is  out  of  place  upon  the  column  of  the  pagan 
emperor. 


UNEARTHIXG    OLD    ROME.  HI 

The  Forum  of  Trajan,  which  is  here  buried  under  modern 
Home,  was  one  of  the  most  splendid  in  the  ancient  city  ;  and 
here  stood  his  arch,  from  which  were  plundered  the  elegant 
bas-reliefs  alluded  to  as  taken  to  decorate  the  Arch  of  Con- 
stantino two  hundred  years  after,  and  the  splendid  equestrian 
statue  of  the  emperor,  —  a  statue  which,  as  the  story  runs, 
excited  the  envy  of  Constantino,  who  wished  "that  he  had 
such  a  horse,"  and  was  told  "  that  he  must  first  make  for 
him  such  a  stable."  Here  were  also  glorious  temples  and 
splendid  statues  in  bronze  and  marble  ;  but  the  breath  of 
time  has  withered  them  into  dust,  all  but  this  one  great 
marble  finger-post  pointing  to  the  past. 

An  excavation  around  this  column  was  made  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  and  further  work  of  excavating  done  by  the 
French  in  1812.  Indeed,  when' the  tourist  sees  how  much 
of  this  work  of  excavating  was  done  more  recently  at  the 
Palace  of  the  Ctesars  by  Louis  Napoleon,  when  he  was  em- 
peror, while  the  French  armj^  were  in  Rome  propping  up 
papal  power  with  their  friendly  bayonets,  he  is  half  inclined 
to  be  selfish  enough  to  wish  that  Italian  liberty  might  have 
been  postponed  till  there  had  been  laid  bare  a  few  more 
secrets  of  the  buried  past.  The  great  pedestal,  seventeen 
feet  high,  is  covered  with  sculptures  of  Roman  warlike  weap- 
ons and  armor  ;  winged  figures  support  the  tablet  bearing 
the  inscription  ;  and  why  is  it  the  guide-books  take  it  for 
granted  that  all  travellers  are  expert  Latin  scholars,  and 
never  in  any  instance  translate  these  most  difficult  of  Latin 
sentences,  with  their  abbreviated  words,  for  the  benefit  of 
those  whom  they  puzzle  ? 

The  inscription  upon  this  column,  which  no  guide-book 
pretends  to  translate,  and  which  but  few  give  in  the  original, 
states  that  "  the  Senate  and  the  Roman  people  dedicate  this 
to  the  Emperor  Csesar,  Divus  Nerva  Flavins,  Nerva  Trajan, 
Augustus  Pontifex  Maximus,  in  his  17th  tribunate,  6th  con- 
sulate, and  6th  emperor,  in  order  to  proclaim  what  greatness 
was  his.  The  mountain  has  been  removed  that  there  may  be 
place  for  so  great  a  work." 


172  A   PILLAE    OP    HISTORY. 

This  last  sentence  alludes,  probably,  to  the  fact  that  exca- 
vations were  made  and  part  of  a  hill  removed  for  the  com- 
pletion of  the  Forum  and  column  of  the  great  emperor. 

The  lower  part  of  the  shaft  itself,  which  is  about  thirteen 
feet  in  diameter,  springs  out  of  an  immense  wreath.  The 
sculptures  that  run  around  it  are  very  well  preserved,  and 
must  be  a  most  interesting  study  to  the  antiquary  and 
student.  The  column  is  of  pure  Carrara  marble,  and  its 
workmanship  inside  as  well  as  outside  something  quite  re- 
markable, as  within,  the  thirty-four  blocks  have  been  cut 
into  a  spiral  staircase.  When  we  consider  the  careful 
matching  of  the  hollowed  blocks  that  the  chronological 
sculpture  should  be  a  perfect,  continuous  spiral,  the  stair- 
case be  exactly  matched,  and  the  whole  structure  architec- 
turally perfect,  we  are  again  impressed  with  the  skill  of  the 
builders  of  old  Eome,  and  the  point  of  excellence  to  which 
meclianics  as  well  as  the  arts  had  been  carried  in  those 
days.  Trajan's  Column  is  an  illustrated  pillar  of  history. 
Its  sculptures  are  said  to  display  nearly  two  thousand  five 
hundred  human  figures,  besides  horses,  bridges,  fortresses, 
rivers,  and  warlike  weapons  ;  but  it  is  the  sculptured  scroll 
of  actors  whose  names  and  deeds  are  forgotten  save  that 
they  lived  and  were  conquered.  The  ashes  of  Trajan  are 
reported  to  be  buried  underneath  the  base  of  this  magnifi- 
cent pillar,  a  worthy  monument  of  an  emperor,  "  who," 
says  Gibbon,  "  made  war  only  to  secure  peace,  and  left 
the  Roman  empire  greater  and  more  prosperous  than  he 
received  it  from   the  hands  of  his  predecessors." 

Another  column  in  Rome,  modelled  after  that  of  Trajan, 
although  not  equal  to  it  in  artistic  execution,  is  that  of 
Marcus  Aurelius,  which  stands  in  a  square  known  as  tlie 
Piazza  Colonna.  This  was  also  erected  by  "  the  senate  and 
the  Roman  people,"  a.  d.  1Y4,  to  the  emperor,  in  honor  of 
his  victories  over  the  Marcomanni.  It  is  of  the  same  gen- 
eral design  as  the  Column  of  Trajan,  the  shaft  being,  like 
that,  surrounded  by  a  spiral  band  of  bas-reliefs  or  carvings 


AN   EGYPTIAN   KELIC.  173 

running  from  base  to  summit,  representing  battles  and  mil- 
itary scenes  in  the  emperor's  life.      As  a  whole,  the  sculp- 
tures are  inferior  in  design  and  execution  to  those  upon  the  , 
shaft  of  Trajan. 

This  column  is  built  of  twenty-eight  blocks  of  white  mar- 
ble, and  is  eleven  feet  and  six  inches  in  diameter  at  its  base, 
and  its  height,  including  the  pedestal,  one  hundred  and 
twenty-two  feet  and  eight  inches.  Inside  there  is  a  spiral 
staircase  composed  of  one  hundred  and  ninety  steps,  and 
on  the  summit  stands  a  statue  of  St.  Paul,  ten  feet  in 
height,  of  course  as  incongruous  an  addition  as  that  to 
Trajan's  Column.  The  blunder  of  denominating  this  column 
that  of  Antoninus  Pius  is  told  in  the  guide-books,  and  the 
tourist  will  do  well  to  bear  it  in  mind,  —  as  it  is  even  now 
frequently  denominated  the  Antoniue  Column,  —  for  Marcus 
Aurelius's  name  was  Marcus  Antoninus.  The  reader  will 
recall  the  author's  description  of  the  ancient  bronze  eques- 
trian statue  of  this,  one  of  the  best  of  Roman  emperors,  in 
front  of  the  Capitol.  The  glories  of  old  Rome  were  rap- 
idly decaying  when  he  assumed  the  imperial  purple,  but  his 
energy,  justice,  philosophy,  and  purity  of  mind  stand  out 
in  marked  contrast  with  the  characteristics  of  the  many 
bloody  tyrants  who  had  preceded  him. 

A  few  steps  from  this  square  and  we  are  in  that  of 
Monte  Citorio,  where  we  may  look  upon  another  column, 
in  com.parison  with  which  the  one  we  have  left  is  but  of 
modern  date  ;  for  this,  an  Egyptian  obelisk  erected  to  an 
Egyptian  king  more  than  six  hundred  years  before  Christ, 
was  brought  to  Rome  from  Ileliopolis  by  Augustus,  and 
was  set  up  in  the  Campus  Martins  as  a  sun-dial.  Old  as  it 
is,  the  hieroglyphics  upon  the  ancient  red  granite  shaft  are 
clear  and  distinct,  and  doubtless  record  the  Egyptian  mon- 
arch's deeds  as  faithfully  as  the  spiral-twined  shafts  do 
those  of  the  more  modern  rulers  of  Rome.  Pope  Pius  VI. 
joined  tlie  five  fragments  of  tliis  fine  obelisk  together,  and 
raised  it  from  where  it  had  fallen  to  this  position,  where  it 


174  CONVENT  OF  THE  CAPUCHINS. 

now  stands  surmounted  by  a  bronze  globe,  which  it  rears 
one  hundred  and  thirty-four  feet  into  the  air. 

The  old  i^opes  did  a  good  thing  when  they  preserved  and 
set  up  those  splendid  monuments  of  antiquity,  the  Egyptian 
obelisks  which  the  emperors  brought  home  as  spoils  to 
Rome,  as  they  are  among  the  interesting  objects  that  to-day 
attract  the  tourist's  attention.  That  in  front  of  St.  Peter's 
has  already  been  referred  to,  and  there  are  several  others, 
chief  among  which,  however,  is  that  known  as  the  obelisk  of 
the  Lateran  in  the  Piazza  di  San  Giovanni.  Here,  indeed,  I 
felt  I  was  in  the  presence  of  antiquity,  standing  before  this 
tallest  obelisk  in  Rome,  a  shaft  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high,  cut  in  honor  of  the  Pharaoh  Thothmes  IV.,  seventeen 
hundred  and  forty  years  before  Christ  I 

Daily  on  my  sight-seeing  excursions  did  I  drive  down 
from  the  Hotel  Constanzi,  —  so  named  after  its  landlord, 
formerly  an  expert  courier,  and  at  the  time  I  was  in  Rome 
a  very  good  hotel-keeper,  —  daily  did  I  drive  down  through 
Barberini  Square,  or  Piazza  Barberini,  I  perhaps  should  say, 
and.  past  the  Triton  fountain,  where  the  great  Triton  seems 
to  have  exhausted  his  lungs  to  but  little  purpose,  inasmuch 
as  he  sends  a  stream  of  water  through  the  shell  at  his  lips 
ridiculously  small  in  comparison  to  his  apparent  size  and 
strength,  —  drive  past  an  oi^ening  into  another  square,  and 
on  to  the  old  or  more  modern  city. 

"  What  square  is  that,  Antonio  ?  " 
■  "  Piazza  Cappuccini,  Monsieur.     Would  Monsieur  like  to 
visit  the  Convent  ?  " 

"  Convent  of  the  Capuchins  !  Why,  that  is  the  place 
where  the  monks'  skeletons  are  used  as  decorations  for 
funeral  chambers,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  they  use  the  bones  for  decoration  of 
the  burial-place." 

One  of  the  very  places  I  had  a  curiosity  to  see.  Accord- 
ing to  travellers'  stories,  both  written  and  verbal,  I  had 
pictured  to  myself  a  long  series  of  vaulted  passages,  hun- 


CAPUCHIN   CHURCH.  175 

dreds  of  feet  in  length,  whose  gloomy  extensions  were  like 
the  Catacombs  of  Paris,  of  mortuary  architecture,  pillars 
of  skulls,  architraves  of  ribs,  and  podium  of  thigh-bones, 
with  curiously'  fashioned  cells,  each  holding  the  dried  or 
mummied  specimen  of  the  pious  brotherhood,  ghastly  re- 
minders to  those  who  were  to  come  after  of  how  frail  a 
thing  is  mortality.  So  now  I  addressed  myself  to  the  task 
of  visiting  this  famous  burial-place. 

We  descended  from  our  carriage  at  the  church  of  the 
Convent,  founded  in  1624  by  Cardinal  Barberini,  a  brother 
of  Pope  Urban  VIII.,  who,  while  his  whole  family  were 
building  splendid  palaces,  only  built  and  endowed  this  con- 
vent and  church,  and  appears  to  have  been  a  man  of  very 
moderate  ambition  and  real  humility.  The  Barberini  Square 
is  called  for  his  fiimily. 

A  brovvn-frocked,  not  over-clean  specimen  of  the  brother- 
hood admitted  us  into  the  church,  which  in  itself  has  but 
few  attractions,  and  does  not  appear  to  be  very  well  cared 
for.  It  is  chiefly  remarkable  for  several  very  fine  pictures, 
the  principal  one  of  which  is  a  magnificent  one  by  Guido, 
representing  the  archangel  Michael  trampling  down  Satan. 
The  figure  of  Michael  is  magnificent,  with  his  pure,  angelic 
brow,  and  sweet  yet  noble  expression,  as,  poised  just  above 
his  adversary,  he  brandishes  aloft  the  sword  with  which  he 
drives  the  rebellious  angel  down,  never  to  rise  again. 

A  picture  of  the  "  Death  of  St.  Francis,"  by  Domenichino, 
and  one  of  "  Ananias  and  Saul,"  by  Cortona,  attracted 
our  attention  most,  and  near  the  high  altar  our  monkish 
guide  pointed  out  the  tomb  of  Alexander  Sobieski,  the  sou 
of  the  king  of  Poland.  In  front  of  the  altar  Cardinal 
Barberini  is  buried,  and  his  epitaph,  which  the  monk  called 
attention  to  as  typical  of  the  humility  of  the  holy  man, 
reads,  — 

Hie   JACET   PULVIS,    CINIS,    ET   NIHIL. 
("Here  lies  naught  but  dust  and  ashes.") 

With  a  somewhat  quizzical  smile,  the  brown-robed  brother 


176  LADIES    NOT    ADMITTED. 

withdrew  two  of  the  more  eager  members  of  our  party,  — 
ladies  who,  after  making  the  detour  of  the  church,  were 
about  passing  through  an  entrance  into  the  monastery,  — 
and,  plucking  them  by  the  sleeve,  intimated  that  none  but 
those  of  the  masculine  gender  could  pass  through  its  sacred 
precincts.  Hence  that  portion  of  the  party  composed  of 
the  gentler  sex,  who  desired  to  visit  the  cemetery  of  the 
Capuchins,  which  was  our  aim,  was  compelled  to  make  a 
detour  outside  the  building,  while  we  passed  through  the 
monastery,  A  sliabby  old  convent  it  appeared  to  be,  and 
looked  as  though  the  presence  of  a  dozen  or  twenty  good 
scrubbing-women  would  have  done  essential  service. 

There  were,  we  were  informed,  about  two  hundred  monks 
here,  although  we  saw  scarcely  a  dozen.  Their  cells 
were  simple,  narrow  apartments,  with  three-legged  stool, 
wretched  bed,  crucifix,  and  little  wooden  table  bearing  a 
black  prayer-book  or  rosary,  and  lighted  by  a  narrow, 
prison-like  slit  of  a  window.  The  refectory  was  an  im- 
mense room,  with  long  tables  set,  at  which  the  monks  took 
their  meals.  A  dingy,  cheerless-looking  place  enough  it 
was,  and  in  the  halls,  save  occasional  little  fonts  of  holy 
water  at  certain  points  or  passages  as  we  passed  through, 
there  were  no  decorations  or  ornament ;  and  this  dull  old 
hole  of  retirement  for  monkish  beggars  was  uninterest- 
ing enough,  —  at  least  the  portion  of  it  we  were  permitted 
to  see. 

Our  cowled  guide  soon  reached  a  door,  which  he  un- 
locked, and  we  descended  into  the  celebrated  burial-place 
of  the  brotherhood,  where  we  found  the  ladies,  who  had 
been  admitted  by  another  entrance,  awaiting  us. 

I  was  wretchedly  disappointed  in  the  place,  and  found 
that  the  long-bow  had  been  drawn  to  its  fullest  extent  by 
ingenious  writers.  It  was  a  long,  narrow  apartment,  not 
beneath  the  level  of  the  ground,  but  lighled  by  grated  win- 
dows that  appeared  to  look  out  upon  a  dilapidated  old 
garden   and   stable-yard.       The   cemetery  is   an   apartment 


A   HALL   OF    HORRORS.  177 

about  fifty  feet  long  perhaps,  and  twenty  or  thirty  wide. 
About  two-thirds  of  the  width,  and  the  whole  length,  were 
occupied  by  four  or  five  compartments  or  divisions,  like 
potato  bins,  which  are  filled  with  earth  brought  from  Jeru- 
salem, and  in  which  each  monk,  as  he  dies,  is  placed  in  his 
robe  and  rosary  to  mingle  with  its  sacred  dust.  From  the 
length  of  time  this  earth  has  been  used  for  this  purpose, 
and  the  number  of  cowled  brothers  who  have  slept  their 
last  sleep  in  it,  I  fancy  that  an  analyzation  would  reveal 
seventy-five  per  cent.  Capuchin  to  twenty-five  of  honest 
earth  by  this  time.  The  earth,  or  place,  or  dry  atmosphere, 
or  all,  seems  to  have  the  property  of  drying  away,  not  rot- 
ting, the  flesh  from  the  bones  of  those  buried,  for  there  was 
not  the  slightest  offensive  odor  in  the  place. 

As  the  burial-place  is  far  too  small  for  the  convent,  when- 
ever a  brother  dies  they  dig  up  the  one  who  was  buried  the 
longest,  and  inter  the  last  deceased  in  his  place.  The  bones 
of  the  disinterred  are  used  for  decorating  and  fitting  up  the 
four  burial-bins  or  sacred  compartments  into  grim  and  hor- 
rible mortuary  chapels.  Chandeliers  of  skulls  and  thigh- 
bones, ornamental  frescos  of  the  small  bones  of  toes  and 
fingers,  altars  of  leg  and  arm  bones,  and  twining  designs 
of  bits  of  vertebra,  —  every  part  of  the  human  skeleton 
put  into  this  grim  and  horrible  architecture  and  dec- 
oration. 

Not  only  is  this  lavish  display  made  of  the  last  remnants 
of  mortality,  but  in  a  niche  in  each  of  the  divisions  above 
mentioned  is  the  skeleton,  or  dried  mummy,  of  some  worthy 
brother,  who  perhaps  was  thought  to  have  been  too  good  in 
the  flesh  to  be  broken  up  and  mingled  indiscriminately  with 
his  fellows.  And  there  they  sit  in  their  mouldering  cowls, 
the  shining  bones  peeping  out  here  and  there  through  the 
rents  in  their  tattered  robes,  and  their  eyeless  sockets  and 
grinning  jaws  seeming  to  express  a  hideous  laugh  ;  or  with 
a  bunch  of  withered  flowers,  as  one  had  in  its  bony  grasp, 
and  in  its  half  fallen-over  position,  and  head  pushed  at  one 
12 


178  SUPPEESSION   OF    THE    CONVENT. 

side,  having  a  sort  of  terrible  expression,  as  though  it  had 
perished  iu  the  act  of  plucking  the  flowers  that  it  held. 
Quite  the  contrary  was  another,  whose  expression  and  atti- 
tude gave  it  the  appearance  of  a  convivial  brother ;  or,  if 
one  could  imagine  sucli  a  thing,  a  drunken  skeleton,  —  a 
sight  at  once  horrible  and  laughable. 

The  place,  to  those  not  used  to  such  sights,  was  a  verita- 
ble hall  of  horrors,  such  as  might  be  imagined  or  told  in  a 
g'hostly  romance,  —  a  grave-digger's  museum,  a  charnel-house 
drawing-room,  — a  lesson  for  ambition,  and  a  hint  from  the 
King  of  Terrors  ;  something  which  makes  those  of  weak 
nerves  shudder,  and  hope  they  shall  not  dream  about  it  at 
night. 

Our  monkish  guide,  who  pointed  out  all  the  striking  fea- 
tures of  the  place,  and  even  knew  some  of  the  skulls  by 
name,  and  had  known  one  of  the  dried-up  brothers  in  the 
more  plump  flesh  of  life,  spoke  with  great  sang  froid  of 
being  interred  there  himself,  as  the  others  had  been,  when 
his  time  should  come. 

In  this  wish,  however,  he  may  be  disappointed,  for,  since 
the  author's  visit.  King  Victor  Emmanuel,  who  is  doing  a 
work  of  civilization  in  abolishing  many  of  these  collections 
of  legalized  beggars  in  Rome,  has  taken  this  convent  in 
hand,  and  on  the  5th  of  August,  1875,  the  building  was 
confiscated  by  the  Italian  government.  The  monks,  who 
were  all  men  past  forty  years  of  age,  to  the  number  of  two 
hundred,  were  summoned  to  the  refectory,  where  the  king's 
proclamation  was  read,  setting  them  free,  and  granting 
them  a  sixty-dollar  pension.  Manj'  of  them  —  having 
never  done  a  stroke  of  work  in  their  lives,  fat  from  laziness, 
and  dirty  from  not  having  put  forth  exeition  enough  to  keep 
themselves  clean,  awkward  and  unused  to  the  ways  of 
men  —  will  undoubtedly  seek  some  other  convent  not  yet 
suppressed,  where  tliey  will  live  a  like  secluded,  idle,  and 
lazy  life  to  the  end  of  their  days.  But  the  convent,  or  a 
portion  of  it  at  least,  is  to  be  utilized  for  a  warehouse,  and 


THE  vatica:n-.  179 

the  cemetery,  with  its  grisly  architecture  and  decoration, 
will  cease  to  be  one  of  the  sights  for  tourists  to  see  and 
writers  to  describe,  as  all  these  dismal  relics  of  mortality 
will  be  decently  buried. 


CHAPTER    X. 

I  HAVE  seen  the  Vatican,  that  is  to  say,  I  have  visited  it, 
several  times,  and  when  collecting  together,  after  my  last 
visit,  a  pile  of  memoranda,  guide-books  with  annotations 
and  marginal  references,  note-book  with  jottings  and  dia- 
grams, and  sundry  photographic  views,  and  setting  them 
aside,  I  sat  down  and  attempted  to  recall  what  I  had  seen 
into  something  like  i-egular  order,  it  seemed  like  endeavoring 
to  record  a  dream  a  week  old. 

Three  or  four  consecutive  visits  to  these  interminable 
galleries  —  wondrous  as  a  fairy  dream,  magnificent  as  an 
Eastern  fable,  and  bewildering  in  their  never  ending  succes- 
sion of  art,  novelty,  antiquity,  beauty,  ingenuity,  and  history, 
—  put  mind  and  imagination  into  such  a  whirl  and  confusion 
that  it  seems  almost  impossible  to  give  a  clear  idea  of  any- 
thing you  have  seen  in  this  marvellous  and  unexcelled  col- 
lection. 

It  is  the  grandest  museum  in  the  world  ;  it  has  had  old 
Rome's  imperial  ruins,  buried  sculptures,  marbles,  and  stat- 
ues to  draw  from  for  centuries,  and  successive  popes  have 
rivalled  each  other  in  building  splendid  additions  for  rich, 
rare,  and  priceless  collections  which  each  added  to  it,  deco- 
rating them  by  the  pencils  of  great  artists,  till  walls,  and 
even  ceilings,  became  artistic  wonders,  and  the  halls  and 
galleries  caskets  worthy  of  the  gems  they  contain.  lie 
who  attempts  to  write  of  the  Vatican  is  at  a  loss  where  to 


180         THE  ART  MUSEUM  OF  THE  WORLD. 

begin  or  what  to  describe,  the  collection  is  so  vast,  the 
beauty  is  so  inimitable. 

He  who  is  a  lover  of  museums  of  art,  taste,  or  antiquity 
is  like  a  beggar  set  down  in  a  room  full  of  gold  and  told  it 
is  his  own  —  the  prospect  is  so  boundless,  the  vista  of  de- 
light so  never-ending,  that  it  fairly  intoxicates,  and  one  must 
pause,  get  sobered  and  steadied,  in  order  to  collect  his  ideas 
that  he  maj'^  utilize  an}'^  portion  of  the  vast  wealth  that  is 
thus  placed  within  his  grasp. 

It  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  one  can  see  or  properly 
appreciate  a  tithe  of  this  priceless  collection  in  the  time 
oi'dinarily  devoted  by  tourists  in  Rome  ;  indeed,  it  seems 
that  three  or  four  visits  do  little  else  than  confuse  one 
and  impress  him  with  the  idea  that  to  give  it  a  thorough 
study  and  inspection  he  would  have  to  remain  in  the  Holy 
City  an  ordinary  lifetime. 

I  cannot  pretend,  and  shall  not  attempt,  to  do  more  than 
give  the  reader  a  few  sips  of  the  cup  to  arouse  taste  for  the 
enchanting  draught  at  this  fountain  of  art  when  he  himself 
shall  visit  it.  Indeed,  I  feel  that  the  few  visits  I  have  made 
to  it,  though  careful  as  far  as  they  extend,  have  given  me 
but  comparatively  small  insight  into  its  prodigality  of  art, 
amazing  richness  of  antiquities,  and  wondrous  treasures  of 
sculpture,  literature,  and  historic  relics.  In  fine,  the  Vati- 
can overshadows  all  other  museums  in  the  world  in  size 
of  collection  and  in  wonders  of  painting,  frescos,  and 
statuary.  Its  wealth  is  the  result  of  hundreds  of  years  of 
labor,  ambition,  and  bequests  of  genius  to  posterity.  Here 
the  student  may  study  ancient  and  modern  art,  sculpture, 
and  painting  from  the  most  perfect  models  in  existence. 

As  a  pile  of  buildings  the  exterior  of  the  Vatican  is  not 
striking,  impressive,  or  attractive  ;  it  is  simply  an  assem- 
blage of  different  edifices,  of  no  uniformity  of  architecture, 
as  they  were  built  at  difierent  periods  b^^  different  architects, 
and  have  since  been  altered  fi'om  time  to  time  by  different 
popes,  or   connected   together   by  various   methods  to   suit 


OBSTRUCTIONS    TO    VISITORS.  181 

their  convenience.  But  within,  there  are  numerous  superb 
architectural  displays  and  magnificent  effects  in  the  con- 
struction of  its  vast  halls,  colonnades,  and  staircases.  The 
Vatican  is  said  to  contain  eight  grand  staircases,  two  hun- 
dred smaller  ones,  twenty  courts,  and  about  five  thousand 
chambers  of  various  sizes,  although  one  authority  (Baedeker) 
gives  it  "  eleven  thousand  halls,  chapels,  saloons,  and  private 
apartments."  Most  tourists,  however,  like  the  author,  will 
not  probably  take  the  trouble  to  verify  either  of  these  state- 
ments by  actual  count,  but  will  fiud  themselves,  after  re- 
peated visits,  passing  many  objects  that  need  not  be  viewed 
a  second  time,  and  also  pass  by  very  many  which  they  will 
not  have  time  or  inclination  to  view  at  all,  till  they  find 
their  circle  of  observation  gradually  narrowing  down  to 
those  great  wonders  of  art  that  are  of  world-wide  celebrity, 
the  beauty  of  which  is  attested  by  each  succeeding  gen- 
eration. 

The  papal  custodians  are  not  over-obliging  to  visitors, 
and  the  arrangements,  at  the  time  of  the  author's  visit,  were 
anything  but  conducive  to  convenience.  The  visitor,  after 
seeing  the  Sistine  Chapel  and  picture  gallery,  instead  of 
being  permitted  to  pass  through  a  portion  of  the  building  to 
the  sculpture  galleries,  as  formerly,  was  compelled  to  de- 
scend to  the  entrance-door,  take  carriage,  and  make  a  con- 
siderable detour  to  the  other  side  of  the  building  to  reach 
them  by  an  entirely  different  entrance.  This  involves  con- 
siderable time,  which  one  does  not  like  to  sacrifice,  espe- 
cially as  the  longest  time  permitted  to  visitors  was  between 
the  hours  of  nine  and  three,  and  this  is  shortened  nearly  half 
an  hour  by  the  custodians,  who  commence  at  about  half  past 
two  to  clear  the  apartments  most  distant  from  the  entrance,  so 
that  the  gates  may  be  promptly  closed  at  the  hour.  But  it  is 
of  no  use  complaining,  for  it  is  the  Pope's  palace  and  mu- 
seum, and,  in  view  of  Victor  Emmanuel's  reforms,  he  probably 
does  not  feel  very  anxious  about  inconveniencing  his  offi- 
cials, or  they  themselves,  more  than  is  absolutely  necessary. 


182  THE  pope's  guard. 

But  for  all  the  inconveniences,  real  or  imaginary,  that  the 
visitor  experiences,  the  conviction  forces  itself  upon  him 
that  the  world  owes  much  gratitude  to  the  pontiffs  whose 
liberality  and  skill  brought  together  these  wonderful  ex- 
amples of  art. 

Before  passing  the  gates  and  ascending  the  magnificent 
fliglit  of  stairs  which  we  saw  before  us,  I  paused  to  view 
the  fine  perspective,  and  to  inspect  the  extraordinary  uni- 
form of  a  group  of  the  Pope's  guard  that  was  standing  at 
this  point.  These  men  are  evidently  selected,  as  were  the 
French  cent  gardes,  and  Frederick  the  Great's  grenadiers,  for 
their  height.  Their  uniform  is  more  gaudy  and  theatrical 
than  the  "beef-eaters'*"  of  the  Tower  of  London.  That  of 
the  privates  or  halberdiers  is  of  alternate  stripes  of  red, 
black,  and  yellow.  The  breeches  are  large  and  baggy, 
reaching  just  below  the  knees,  and  the  legs  are  inclosed  in 
black  and  yellow  striped  stockings.  The  coat  or  jacket 
reached  a  little  below  the  hips,  and  was,  like  the  rest  of  the 
dress,  of  broad,  red,  black,  and  yellow  stripes.  A  white, 
round  ruff  about  the  neck,  and  a  cavalry  helmet  almost 
shrouded  in  the  white  feathers,  completed  this  extraordinary 
and  strikingly  conspicuous  uniform.  The  privates  carried  a 
staff  about  eight  feet  in  length,  the  end  being  a  spear  and 
axe,  the  whole  very  like  an  ancient  halberd. 

The  dress  of  the  officers  is  similar  to  that  of  the  men, 
except  that  their  helmets  are  crowned  with  red  instead  of 
white  feathers  ;  and  the  one  that  I  saw  had  on  a  regular 
metallic  cuirass,  or  breastplate,  like  that  worn  by  the  French 
cuirassiers  in  the  time  of  Napoleon  I.  • — a  terribly  uncomfort- 
able costume  for  guard  duty  in  a  warm  climate,  however 
pretty  it  might  look  in  pictures  or  pageants.  These  absurdly 
dressed  guards  of  him  who  claims  to  be  the  vicar  of  Christ 
and  the  successor  of  St.  Peter,  are  but  one  of  the  curious 
costumes,  religious  and  military,  that  are  continually  greet- 
ing our  sight  in  the  Holy  City. 

There   are,  of  course,  the  different  orders  of  monks,  dis- 


COSTUMES   IN"   ROME.  183 

tinguished  by  their  gray,  or  black,  or  brown  cowls,  includ- 
ing tlie  Capuchins  before  alluded  to,  who  sleep  in  their 
dresses  and  change  them  only  once  in  three  j^ears,  and 
those  friars  who  go  about  begging  with  a  sort  of  fire-bucket 
looking  pail  for  cold  victuals,  cash,  or  anything  they  can 
get ;  and  the  cardinals'  servants  or  attendants,  in  curious, 
old-fashioned  liveries  which  always  have  an  appearance  of 
being  two  or  three  sizes  too  big  for  them.  Then  there  are 
the  different  orders  of  students  for  the  priesthood,  distin- 
guished by  the  color  of  their  long  robes  or  outer  cloaks,  or 
great  shovel  hats  ;  and  the  white-bonneted  sisters  of  charity. 
In  fact,  the  frequent  meeting  and  constant  presence  of  these 
different  religious  uniforms  remind  the  visitor  that  he  is  at 
the  chosen  home  of  the  Papal  Church.  Besides  these,  there 
are  still  the  oddlj'-costumed,  brigandish-looking  peasants 
and  fam.ilies  that  come  in  for  artists'  models  or  to  beg  of 
such  strangers  in  the  travelling  season  as  halt  to  look  at  the 
high,  peaked  hats  and  ribbons,  and  swathed  legs  and  gay 
jackets  of  the  men,  and  gaudy  aprons,  big  hairpins,  and 
scarfs  of  the  women.  But  I  am  keeping  the  reader  all  this 
time  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  leading  in  to  the  Vatican  ; 
and  a  glorious  staircase  it  is,  fit  for  popes  and  emperors  to 
ascend.  The  Scala  Regia,  or  great  staircase,  with  its  beau- 
tiful perspective,  lofty  arches,  and  grand  colonnade  of  pil- 
lars, is  a  sight  to  bo  remembered. 

I  had  heard  so  much  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  its  marvel- 
lous ceiling  painted  by  Michael  Angelo,  that  I  was  disap- 
pointed at  the  general  effect  on  first  sight  of  it,  especially  from 
its  contrast  with  newer  and  brighter  frescos  seen  on  stair- 
cases and  halls  before  entering  this  wonderfully  decorated 
room.  To  me  it  seemed  that  Angelo's  work  was  much  in 
need  of  a  good  cleaning.  I  chanced  to  be  with  but  a  small 
party,  with  a  guide  who  knew  the  custodian,  and  who  there- 
fore lot  us  have  our  own  way  and  time  for  examining  the 
works  of  the  great  master.  A  long  table  covered  with  green 
baize,  which  had  been  left  in  the  chapel,  afforded  an  oppor- 


184  THE    LAST    JUDGMEXT. 

tunity  for  examining  these  celebrated  frescos  without  that 
back-breaking  process  and  the  fatigue  usually  incurred  by 
gazing  upward  for  even  a  cursory  inspection. 

Stretched  upon  my  back  at  full  length  upon  the  conven- 
ient table,  did  I,  opera-glass  in  hand,  run  over  the  produc- 
tions of  the  great  artist's  twenty-two  months'  labor.  The 
"  Creation,"  "  Fall,"  and  "  Deluge  ;  "  in  the  centre  the 
pi-ophets  and  sibyls,  "  Mockery  of  Noah,"  "  Israelites  in  the 
Wilderness,"  "  David  and  Goliath,"  angels,  cherubs,  &c., 
they  have  all  been  described  again  and  again  ;  but  notwith- 
standing this,  and  their  dingy  appearance,  as  one  looks  upon 
this  wonderful  ceiling,  the  impression  forces  itself  upon  the 
spectator  that  it  is  the  grand  work  of  a  master-hand,  espe- 
cially in  contemplating  the  noble  figures  of  the  sibyls  and 
prophets,  and  he  can  but  regret  that  the  whole  work  should 
be  in  a  place  so  ill  contrived  for  admitting  sufficient  light  to 
see  the  artist's  work,  so  grand  in  conception  and  wonderful 
in  execution. 

That  wonderful  picture,  "  The  Last  Judgment,"  the  re- 
production of  which  all  are  so  familiar  with,  was  another 
disappointment,  for  it  is  faded,  blackened,  and  blurred  by 
lamp-smoke,  age,  and  neglect ;  and  my  preparation  for  the 
original  having  been  obtained  from  well-executed  steel  engrav- 
ings,—  good,  clean,  pictorial  impressions  of  the  great  work, 
—  naturally  enough  led  me  to  tiiink  that  if  it  was  so  grand 
and  beautiful  in  reproduction  by  the  engraver's  art,  the  , 
original  in  colors  must  be  a  marvel.  It  was  grand,  but  a 
disappointment  as  regards  freshness  and  vividness  ;  and 
now  the  question  forced  itself  continuall}'  upon  my  mind  of 
how  glorious  the  work  must  have  been  when  fresh  from  the 
artist's  pencil,  and  untarnished  by  smoke  and  age. 

This  great  picture  extends  from  floor  to  ceiling,  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  chapel.  In  the  centre  sits  the  figure  rep- 
resenting our  Saviour  judging  the  world  ;  and  below,  the 
seven  angels,  sounding  their  trumpets  summoning  the  dead, 
who  arc  breaking  from  their  g-raves  and  shrouds  ;  and  at  the 


A    GREAT   artist's    GREAT    WORK.  185 

right,  tlie  well-remembered  group  of  Charon  with  his  crowded 
boat-load  of  tlie  damned,  whom  he  is  driving  overboard,  and 
into  the  clutches  of  expectant  demons,  by  a  vigorous  appli- 
cation of  his  paddle.  Above,  I  noted  the  well-known  figures 
of  the  saints  about  to  receive  their  glorious  reward  :  St. 
Catherine  and  her  wheel,  St.  Bartholomew  and  his  skin,  St. 
Andrew  and  his  cross,  St.  Lawrence  and  his  gridiron,  &c.  ; 
while  saints  and  the  righteous  with  cherubs  and  angels  are 
floating  upwards  amid  clouds  to  the  home  of  the  blessed. 

Dimmed,  faded,  and  its  effect  destroyed  by  lack  of  light 
and  the  grand  altar,  the  great  picture  only  conveys  the  im- 
pression to  the  spectator  of  what  a  wonderful  collection  of 
nude  figures,  in  every  possible  attitude,  and  with  every 
variety  of  expression,  it  must  have  been  in  its  prime.  And, 
with  the  knowledge  that  here  in  this  chapel  is  a  great  artis- 
tic work  that  one  ought  to  get  up  more  enthusiasm  over,  I 
could  only  feel  a  sense  of  gratification  that  I  had  an  opportu- 
nity of  looking  upon  this,  the  most  perfect  result  of  the  great 
artist's  long  and  active  life,  and  celebrated  as  one  of  the 
wonders  of  art  in  the  world,  and  wishing  that  it  was  in  per- 
fect condition  enough  to  command  enthusiastic  admiration. 

But  Michael  Angelo  was  indeed  a  wonderful  man,  painter, 
sculptor,  architect,  commander,  —  industrious  as  well  as 
wonderful ;  and  it  is  not  surprising  his  name  is  so  continu- 
ally quoted  in  connection  with  art  in  Italy  when  it  is  con- 
sidered how  conspicuous  a  place  he  occupied  during  his  life 
in  its  advancement,  the  monuments  that  he  has  left  behind 
him,  the  results  of  great  genius  united  to  incessant  applica- 
tion and  unflagging  industry.  Let  the  visitor,  as  he  stands 
before  tliis  great  picture,  grand  even  in  its  decay,  remember 
that  the  artist  commenced  it  in  his  sixtieth  year,  and  toiled 
over  it  for  seven  years  before  it  was  completed.  It  is  a  pic- 
ture that  is  now  more  of  a  subject  for  artistic  study  than  for 
the  admiration  of  amateurs. 

In  order  to  reach  the  Museum  of  Statues  I  passed  through 
a  splendid    corridor,    known    as    the    Corridor    of  Inscrip- 


186  MUSEUM   OF    STATUES. 

tions,  a  great  gallery  twenty-one  hundred  and  thirty-one 
feet  in  Icng-th,  the  sides  lined  with  early  Pagan  and  Chris- 
tian epitaphs  from  sarcophagi.  There  are  hundreds,  I  be- 
lieve thousands,  of  these  epitaphs  of  persons  in  all  degrees 
of  life,  from  slave  to  nobleman,  and  man}^  of  them  very 
curious  as  describing  the  trade  or  business  of  the  deceased, 
which  it  appears  in  ancient  Rome  were  much  the  same  as 
Ave  have  to-day  ;  and  some  of  the  lines  to  butcher,  baker,  or 
captain,  are  in  as  bad  taste  as  those  that  disfigure  tombstones 
and  monuments  in  our  own  land  to-day. 

A  grand  hall  of  sculptures  is  that  called  Braccio  Nuovo 
(the  "New  Arm"),  built  by  Pius  II.  in  1817,  t^A'c  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  in  length,  lighted  with  twelve  great  skylights, 
and  filled  with  gems  of  sculpture.  This  anywhere  but  in 
Rome  would  be  a  museum  in  itself,  and  simply  as  a  grand 
hall  constructed  for  a  museum  is  a  splendid  specimen  of 
architectural  taste  and  elegance.  It  is  divided  into  numer- 
ous niches,  so  that  statues  are  set  in  a  series  of  arches, 
twenty-eight  in  number,  and  then,  before  the  pilasters  which 
separate  them,  are*as  many  busts  on  pedestals  of  red  gran- 
ite ;  other  busts  on  consoles  are  at  the  intersections  of  the 
arches  ;  and  bas-reliefs  are  placed  between  the  frieze  and 
keys  of  the  arches.  The  floor  is  elegant  mosaic,  and  the 
light  from  above  is  equally  and  pleasantly  distributed.  In 
fact,  the  whole  effect  is  that  the  objects  of  sculpture  furnish 
the  gallerj',  so  perfect  is  the  harmony  the  one  with  the  other, 
an  example  to  be  studied  by  our  modern  projectors  of  muse- 
ums and  art  collections. 

Now  the  visitor  begins  to  encounter  old  acquaintances, 
or,  I  should  say,  those  that  he  is  familiar  with  from  repro- 
ductions that  have  found  their  way  to  every  part  of  the 
civilized  world.  Here  stands  Silenus,  adorned  with  vine- 
leaves  and  grapes,  leaning  against  a  tree,  and  smilingly  re- 
garding the  infant  Bacchus,  whom  he  holds  in  his  arms  ; 
the  magnificent  statue  of  the  Emperor  Augustus,  found  in 
1863,  of  heroic  size,  and  interesting  as  having  his  cuirass 


THE    ATHLETE.  187 

sculptured  all  ovec  with  small  bas-reliefs  relating-  to  his 
achievements.  The  armor  and  drapery  are  wonders  of 
sculpture.  Here  is  the  graceful  statue  of  Ganymede  pour- 
ing into  the  cup  the  libation  for  the  gods.  Then  we  have 
an  exquisitely  beautiful  figure  marked  in  the  catalogue  as 
"  Diana  contemplating  Endymion."  The  sleeping  youth, 
however,  is  wanting,  but  the  graceful  and  exquisitely 
modelled  form  of  the  goddess,  in  the  gentle,  bending  atti- 
tude that  she  has  assumed,  shows  plainly  enough  that  he 
should  be  beneath  her  loving  gaze  to  complete  the  group. 
Here  stands  Euripides,  with  his  broad,  intellectual  forehead, 
holding  his  poetic  scroll ;  and  the  orator  Demosthenes,  de- 
claiming against  the  fickleness  of  Athenians  in  refusing  to 
listen  to  him,  with  indignation  and  force  expressed  in  every 
line  of  his  face. 

Ah  !  there,  at  the  head  of  the  hall,  rises  one  of  those 
figures  that  are  such  splendid  specimens  of  refinement,  of 
form,  and  grace  of  attitude  :  the  athlete  standing  in  the  act 
of  cleansing  his  left  arm  from  perspiration  and  dust  with 
the  strigil,  a  bronze  sort  of  scraper  used  b}^  the  gladiators  for 
that  purpose.  The  slender  but  compact  and  athletic  frame, 
graceful  attitude,  youthfully  beautiful  head,  flowing  hair, 
and  the  elasticity  that  seems  to  pervade  the  gracefully 
rounded  limbs,  hold  the  spectator  like  a  spell.  No  wonder 
that  Tiberius,  in  response  to  popular  clamor,  had  to  replace 
the  original  in  bronze,  taken  b}'  him  to  adorn  his  palace,  at 
the  baths  of  the  people,  where  it  had  been  set  up  by  Agrippa, 
who,  as  Pliny  tells  us,  brought  it  from  Greece,  for  it  is  a 
figure  of  grace  and  beauty  that  commanded  their  admira- 
tion as  it  does  ours  to-day. 

An  exquisite  figure  of  Venus  rising  from  the  sea,  in  the 
act  of  arranging  her  hair,  the  lower  part  of  the  figure  beau- 
tifully draped,  deserves  more  attention  in  the  guide-books 
than  it  gets  ;  indeed,  the  visitor  must  not  depend  entirely 
upon  guide-books  or  guides  to  tell  him  the  best  objects  of 
art,  or  he  may  lose  many  exquisite  productions. 


188  GRAND  ARMY  OF  STATUES. 

The  colossal  group  representing-  the  river  Nile  consists 
of  a  huge  reclining  figure  of  a  man  leaning  against  the 
Sphynx.  Sixteen  children  are  clambering  over  him,  while 
one  of  his  liands  holds  the  cornucopia,  from  which  the 
waters  have  flown,  and  one  little  cupid,  with  folded  arms,  is 
bubbling  out  of  it.  The  base,  or  pedestal,  is  sculptured  all 
over  with  pigmies  combating  crocodiles  and  hippopotami, 
and  figures  of  the  ibis  and  lotus  flower.  This  curious  group 
was  found  in  the  time  of  Pope  Leo  X.,  between  the  years 
1513  and  1522. 

One  of  the  most  conspicuous  objects  in  this  museum  is  a 
grand,  full-length  statue  of  Minerva,  found  among  the  ruins 
of  a  temple  on  the  Esquiline  Hill.  It  is  in  excellent  preser- 
vation, and  is  cut  from  Parian  marble.  The  goddess  is 
crowned  with  the  familiar  helmet.  Iler  right  hand  holds 
her  spear,  near  the  butt  of  which  a  serpent,  emblem  of 
vigilance  and  health,  is  coiled.  A  cuirass  is  seen  at  the 
right  shoulder,  beneath  the  graceful  drapery  which  falls  to 
tlie  feet,  and  the  whole  figure  is  inexpressibly  grand  and 
dignified,  as  the  goddess  of  wisdom  should  be. 

I  must  leave  many,  many  beautiful  creations  of  the  sculp- 
tor's chisel  without  a  word  of  comment,  as  many  and  many 
abler  writers  have  done  before  me,  for  there  is  a  grand  army 
of  statuary  in  the  other  halls  awaiting  our  review  :  so  we 
bestow  only  a  passing  glance  upon  such  notable  figures  as  a 
colossal  head  of  a  Dacian  from  Trajan's  Forum  ;  a  magnifi- 
cent colossal  vase  in  the  Etruscan  style  ;  the  central  orna- 
ment of  the  gallery,  cut  from  black  Egyptian  basalt,  adorned 
with  leaves,  wi'eaths,  grapes,  and  birds,  a  splendid  piece  of 
work  which  was  found  on  the  Quirinal  Hill ;  a  finely  sculp- 
tured bust  of  Marcus  Antoninus  the  Roman  triumvir,  and 
the  enemy  of  Cicero  ;  and  that  of  ^milius  Lepidus,  his 
colleague,  both  found  in  a  grotto  near  the  Porta  Maggiore  ; 
a  fine  figure  of  Mercury  and  others  ;  for,  under  the  guidance 
of  an  expert  valet  de  place,  we  find  ourselves  in  the  gallery 
known  as  the  Chiaramonti  Corridor,  receiving  its  name  from 


PRICELESS    ART    WEALTH.  189 

Pius  VII.,  that  being  his  family  name.  The  gallery  was 
built  by  another  pope,  but  owes  its  modern  embellishments 
to  the  latter.  Here  we  are  staggered  by  the  intelligence 
that  there  are  more  than  seven  hundred  sculptures  for  us  to 
inspect,  collected  from  other  collections  found  among  ruins 
and  purchased  by  the  Pope,  the  whole  arranged  by  Canova 
in  two  long  rows,  and  subdivided  into  thirty  sections,  each 
lighted  by  a  large  window. 

In  the  Chiaramonti  Corridor,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
Chiaramonti  collection,  the  visitor  feels  that  he  is  surrounded 
by  priceless  art  wealth  ;  he  has  about  him  portraits  of  the  old 
Eoman  emperors,  orators,  and  poets,  cut  from  living  models  ; 
the  columns,  statues,  and  sculptures  that  decorated  the 
niches  of  pagan  temples  and  the  halls  and  habitations  of  the 
rich  ;  the  A'ery  sacrificial  altars  upon  which  offerings  were 
made  to  the  gods,  with  the  sculptured  story  of  their  mytho- 
logical deeds  told  in  bas-relief  upon  their  base  or  sides  ; 
statues  of  the  gods  themselves,  such  masterpieces  of  art 
as  to  invoke  art  worship  in  these  modern  days  ;  the  superb 
sarcophagi  with  sculptured  stories  and  rich  adornments  upon 
them,  last  resting-places  for  the  ashes  of  the  rich,  the  pro- 
duction of  any  one  of  which  would  require  a  sum  that  would 
be  a  small  fortune  to  many  a  man  to-day.  Bas-reliefs  ;  poetic, 
emblematic,  and  liistoric  epitaphs  and  inscriptions,  that  bring 
us  face  to  face  with  the  times  of  the  Cfesars  ;  and  so  many 
wonders  in  artistic  sculpture,  that  we  think  if  these  are  but 
the  fragments,  splinters,  and  remains  of  the  ancient  city, 
what  a  glorious  spectacle  it  must  have  presented,  with  tri- 
umphal arches,  statues,  temples,  and  columns,  when  in  its 
prime. 

Here  in  this  corridor  I  paused  to  look  at  two  beautiful 
recumbent  figures  representing  Autumn  and  Winter.  The 
former  was  surrounded  with  the  sculptured  attributes  of  the 
season,  flowers,  grapes,  fruits,  &c.,  and  was  found  on  the 
Cassian  Way.  The  latter  is  a  recumbent  draped  figure 
with  various    sculptured  symbols   about  it.     A    statue    of 


190  TIBERIUS    C^SAR. 

Urania,  and  a  beautiful  one  of  Clio  in  a  sitting  posture, 
with  scrolls  of  history  at  her  side,  and  near  by  was  a  statue 
of  a  priestess  found  in  Hadrian's  Villa.  The  visitor  will 
come  to  the  conclusion,  from  the  number  of  statues,  col- 
umns, and  vases  found  in  Hadrian's  Villa  and  at  Caracalla's 
Baths,  that  they  were  luxurious  emperors,  and  liberal  pat- 
rons of  the  arts,  or,  to  say  tlie  least,  were  very  liberal  in 
the  art  decoration  of  buildings  and  villas.  One  can  hardly 
realize  how  beautiful  a  fragment  of  sculpture  even  may  be, 
until  he  sees  some  of  the  wonderful  torsos  hero  in  Rome. 

A  headless  and  armless  statue  —  said  by  some  to  be  a 
portion  of  the  figure  of  Diana,  by  others  Ariadne,  but 
enumerated  in  the  catalogue  as  one  of  the  daughters  of 
Niobe  —  will  claim  attention  in  this  gallery,  and  its  grace- 
ful drapery  especially  be  recognized  as  truly  artistic.  The 
colossal  and  helmeted  bust  of  Pallas  is  magnificent,  and  is 
by  some  said  to  be  Rome  personified  in  this  figure.  We 
pass  by  with  a  glance  at  Bacchus  with  his  everlasting  grapes 
and  vine-leaves  ;  altars,  busts  of  Jupiter  ;  Juno  and  Child, 
found  in  the  Quirinal  Gardens  ;  Hercules  resting  after  his 
laboi's ;  Gladiator  killing  a  lion  ;  Wrestlers  wearing  the 
cestus  ;  two  superb  statues  of  Tiberius  :  one  sits  holding 
the  sceptre  and  sword  in  his  hand,  his  breast  partly  covered 
with  a  tunic,  and  his  head  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  oak- 
leaves  ;  the  other  is  also  in  a  sitting  position,  ■ —  a  majestic 
figure,  clothed  in  the  Roman  toga.  The  papal  government 
paid  twelve  hundred  dollars  for  the  purchase  of  the  lat- 
ter, —  not  a  very  great  price  for  a  grand  statue. 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius,  however,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, that  Christ  was  crucified  at  Jerusalem,  and, 
cruel  as  this  Roman  emperor  was,  he  did  not  molest  the 
Christians,  although  he  suffered  persecution  of  the  Jews  to 
be  carried  on  without  stint.  Although  this  emperor  is 
styled  the  execrated  successor  of  Aiigustus,  it  is  of  interest 
to  look  upon  these  well-preserved  and  portrait  statues  of 
the  sovereign  to  whom  Pontius  Pilate  wrote  his  letters 
respecting  our  Saviour. 


AET   AND    BEAUTY.  191 

One  of  the  very  best  imperial  busts  known  is  that  in  this 
gallery.  It  is  distinguished  for  its  good  preservation,  the 
whiteness  of  the  marble,  and  moreover  its  noble  beaut}'. 
It  represents  the  Emperor  Octavius  Augustus  in  his  youth, 
probably  soon  after  he  came  into  public  life  as  the  avenger 
of  his  uncle,  Julius  Csesar.  It  is  a  fine  head,  although  the 
original  lives  in  historj^  as  a  little  lame  boy,  with  weak  eyes 
and  snuffling  speech ;  but  his  craftiness  and  skill  carried 
him  through  many  trying  situations  successfully  to  the  age 
of  seventy-five  years,  and,  contrary  to  the  manner  of  many 
of  his  successors,  he  died  a  natural  death  in  bed,  and  was 
not  murdered. 

A  beautiful  little  statue  is  that  of  Cupid  in  the  act  of 
bending  his  bow,  called  one  of  the  best  copies  of  the  origi- 
nal by  Praxiteles,  This  figure  was  found  in  fragments,  and 
has  been  most  skilfully  put  together. 

One  of  the  best  heads  that  has  come  down  to  us  is  that 
on  the  bust  of  Venus,  which  is  here  beside  that  of  Ariadne. 
It  is  a  most  elegant  and  graceful  representation  of  the  ideal 
beauty  in  excellent  preservation,  and  the  graceful  arrange- 
ment of  the  hair  might  be  commended  to  ladies  of  to-day. 
It  was  excavated  from  in  front  of  the  Baths  of  Diocletian, 
in  1804.  A  beautiful  specimen  of  Greek  workmanship, 
found  in  the  year  1T91,  and  supposed  to  belong  to  a  rich 
Roman  in  the  time  of  Nero,  is  the  statue  of  Silenus,  that 
stands  in  the  attitude  of  presenting  with  one  hand  a  cup  of 
wine  towards  a  panther  that  is  gazing  at  him,  while  with 
the  other  he  holds  over  the  animal  his  crook  or  staff.  Tlie 
Gardens  of  the  Quirinal  yielded  up  a  superb  colossal  bust 
of  Isis,  which  we  see  here  with  its  ample  veil,  and  neck 
adorned  with  necklaces  made  of  acorns.  It  is  sculptured 
from  Pentelic  marble. 

But  we  will  leave  behind  "  Hercules  with  Ajax  in  his 
Arms  ;  "  altars  to  Apcjllo,  Diana,  Mars,  and  Mercury  ;  Her- 
mes and  Bacchus,  squeezing  grapes  in  a  cup  ;  the  bust  of 
Cicero,  with  its  penetrating  and  caustic  expression  ;  a  little 


192  A   "  MASS    OF   BREATHING    STONE." 

Statue  of  Ulysses  with  the  Phryg-ian  cap  on  his  head  ;  ^s- 
culapius  ;  Hercules  strangling-  the  serpents  ;  and  other  sub- 
jects equally  interesting,  as  the  reader  will  readily  judge 
these  are,  from  their  very  names  ;  for,  like  the  object  of 
Macbeth's  ambition,  "the  greatest  is  behind."  New  won- 
ders are  to  come,  so  we  ascend  elegant  marble  steps,  and 
find  ourselves  in  that  important  part  of  the  Vatican  known 
as  the  Pio  Clementine  Museum.  This  large  building, 
erected  by  the  Popes  Julius  II.,  Innocent  VIII.,  Paul  III., 
and  Leo  X.,  and  enlarged  by  Clement  XIV.  and  Pius  VI.  by 
the  addition  of  various  galleries,  is  affirmed  to  be  the  most 
magnificent  gallery  of  ancient  sculpture  in  existence.  It  is 
indebted  to  the  munificence  of  Pius  VI.,  according  to  Mur- 
ray, for  more  than  two  thousand  specimens. 

The  square  vestibule  is  called  the  Vestibule  of  the  Belve- 
dere, from  the  beautiful  view  it  commands  of  Rome,  and  in 
the  middle  of  the  vestibule  is  that  splendid  relic  of  anti- 
quity known  as  the  Torso  Belvedere,  This  is  a  colossal 
fragment,  a  mutilated  statue  in  Greek  marble,  of  herculean 
proportions.  The  head,  upper  part  of  the  breast,  both  arms 
to  the  shoulders,  and  both  the  legs  below  the  knees,  are 
gone,  atid  yet  such  is  the  correctness  of  representation  in 
every  anatomical  detail  of  this  more  trunk  of  man,  so  won- 
derfully is  it  finished,  that  it  may  well  be  called,  as  by  the 
poet  Rogers,  a  "  mass  of  breathing  stone." 

That  it  is  a  wonderful  work  of'  sculpture  has  been  attested 
by  so  many  masters  of  the  art,  that  those  who  see  in  it 
nothing  but  a  mutilated  fragment  must  remember  that  the 
skilled  and  practised  eye  of  the  sculptor  sees  the  beauties 
of  his  art  even  in  this  fragment  of  work.  And  when  one 
comes  to  give  it  a  close  and  critical  examination,  he  will 
find  that  the  curves,  roundings,  wrinkles,  and  depressions 
of  actual  flesh  are  so  wonderfully  and  perfectly  moulded, 
that  it  appears  as  if  the  artist  must  have  shaped  it  like  clay 
in  plastic  form,  rather  than  with  the  more  laborious  chisel 
which  he  had  to  employ  on  the  brittle  marble.     The  actual 


"  READING    UP."  193 

flesh-like  appearance  of  belly,  lower  breast,  and  hips,  in 
fact  all  that  part  of  the  trunk  remaining,  is  so  striking,  that 
I  looked  on  this  old  fragment  from  the  chisel  of  ApoUonius, 
son  of  Nestor  of  Athens,  found  near  Pompey's  Theatre, 
with  increased  interest,  as  T  recalled  the  grand  proportions 
of  some  of  Michael  Angelo's  nude  figures  ;  for  I  remem- 
bered the  great  sculptor  and  painter  declared  that  to  it  he 
was  indebted  for  his  instruction  in  representing  the  human 
figure.  And  in  his  old  age  the  great  artist  used  to  be  led 
up  to  it,  that  he  might  pass  his  hands  over  it  and  enjoy,  in 
the  sense  of  touching,  the  fine  proportions  and  lines  of 
beauty  that  were  denied  his  sight. 

To  be  sure,  the  "reading  up"  of  some  of  these  great 
works  of  art  in  the  world  surrounds  them  with  a  halo  of 
poetical  interest ;  otherwise  I  might  perhaps  have  looked 
upon  this  as  did  a  companion,  —  a  quite  well-informed  per- 
son in  many  things,  —  who  begged  I  would  "come  along, 
and  not  waste  so  much  time  over  an  old  smashed  statue, 
when  there  were  so  many  perfect  ones  to  be  looked  at." 

Speaking  of  reading,  almost  every  schoolboy  who  has 
read  of  Rome  has  read  the  story  of  Scipio  Africanus  and 
his  battles  with  Hannibal.  It  was  he,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, who  "  carried  the  war  into  Africa,"  two  hundred 
years  before  Christ.  It  is  therefore  interesting  to  those 
who  have  aji  antiquarian  turn  of  mind,  to  look  upon  the 
sarcophagus  that  once  held  the  mortal  remains  of  the  great- 
grandfather of  this  celebrated  Roman  general,  who  was 
consul  under  the  republic,  b.  c.  298,  and,  as  the  inscription 
upon  his  stone  coffin  tells,  a  noble  general  himself,  showing 
that  Scipio  came  of  good  stock.  This  inscription,  which  is 
of  the  most  ancient  Latin  handed  down  to  us,  and  which 
the  guide-books  give  in  the  original,  they,  as  usual,  all  neg- 
lect to  give  an  English  translation  of  for  the  benefit  of  the 
unlettered.      Mere  is  a  translation  : 

"Cornelius  Scipio  Barbatus,  born  of  a  brave  father;  a 
courageous  and  prudent  man,  whose  prudence  equalled  his 
13 


194  SARCOrHAGI    OF    THE    SCIPIOS. 

beauty.  He  has  been  among  you  consul,  censor,  sedile  ;  he 
took  Taurasia,  Cisanna,  and  Samnium  ;  having  subjugated 
all  Lucania,  he  brought  away  from  it  hostages." 

When  the  sarcophagus  of  this  gallant  old  general  was 
opened  in  1781,  two  thousand  years  after  his  death,  his 
skeleton  was  found  entire,  and  upon  one  of  his  bony  fingers 
a  ring,  which  is  still  in  existence,  in  the  collection  of  an- 
tiques of  an  English  nobleman.  The  sarcophagus  is  a 
great,  square,  ash-colored,  stone  structure  of  albano  stone, 
cut  in  Doric  style,  and  familiar  from  the  many  reproductions 
and  pictorial  representations  of  it  that  have  been  made.  It 
is  one  of  the  most  interesting  authenticated  relics  of  Re- 
publican Rome.  The  tomb  of  the  Scipio  fam  ly,  from  which 
this  sarcophagus  was  taken,  was  discovered  near  the  Ap- 
pian  Way  in  1780,  and,  besides  this,  the  coffins  of  the 
grandfather  and  son  of  Scipio  Africanus.  The  latter  was 
buried  at  Liternum,  where  he  died,  causing  to  be  inscribed 
on  his  tomb,  "  Ungrateful  country,  thou  shalt  not  have  my 
bones." 

This  Clementino  Museum,  the  vestibule  of  which  we  have 
just  entered,  contains  some  of  the  most  splendid  apartments 
in  the  Vatican.  Among  them  are  the  Hall  of  Animals,  the 
Hall  of  the  Biga  or  Chariot,  the  Gallery  of  the  Muses,  the 
Circular  Hall,  the  Hall  of  the  Greek  Cross,  the  Grand  Stair- 
case, and  the  Cortile  of  the  Belvedere.  The  last-mentioned 
is  a  large  space  in  form  of  an  octagon,  surrounded  by  an 
ornamental  open  portico.  In  the  centre  of  the  space  is  a 
fountain,  and  round  about  it  are  various  curious  sarcophagi 
and  vases,  which  we  pass  for  the  grander  works  in  the  four 
cabinets  inside  the  portico. 

The  first  that  commands  attention  is  the  cabinet  of  Ca- 
nova,  containing  the  two  striking  (no  pun  intended)  statues 
by  Canova  of  the  Syracusan  boxers,  Creugas  and  Damox- 
enus,  two  life-like  figures  opposed  to  each  other  in  combat, 
and,  as  any  member  of  "  the  fancy  "  would  say,  in  anything 
but  a  scientific  attitude.     One  stands  with   his  right  arm 


THE   BOXERS.  195 

raised,  leaving  his  side  wholly  unprotected,  at  which  his 
antagonist,  who  has  brute  force  and  violence  expressed  in 
every  line  of  his  countenance,  appears  to  be  aiming  a  blow 
with  tiie  ends  of  the  fingers  of  his  open,  extended  hand, — 
a  straightforward  thrust. 

"  A  foul,  foolish  way  of  striking  for  the  one,  and  a  stupid 
oversight  of  the  other  to  leave  his  side  unguarded,"  said 
an  American  near  me,  who  was  regarding  the  group.  "  I 
wonder  if  that  was  the  style  of  the  old  Roman  boxers  ?" 

Probably  not ;  for,  as  the  story  runs,  the  one  who  raised 
his  arm  agreed  to  present  his  side  unguarded  for  a  blow 
from  his  adversary,  who,  disregarding  the  laws  prescribed 
in  the  games,  struck  forth  with  his  fingers,  piercing  be- 
tween his  adversary's  ribs,  and  killing  him  on  the  spot. 

The  two  figures  are  admirably  executed  in  all  anatomical 
details,  but  have  that  expression  of  the  coarse,  brutal  force 
of  a  pugilist,  rather  than  that  of  a  noble-minded  athlete,  as 
seen  in  the  older  statues. 

Near  these  stands  Perseus  with  the  head  of  Medusa,  an 
exquisite  piece  of  Canova's  work.  The  figure  holds  the 
sword  in  one  hand  and  the  Medusa  head  in  the  other,  and 
the  mantle  falls  down  in  such  graceful  and  natural  folds 
from  the  shoulders  to  the  feet,  as  to  almost  cheat  the  spec- 
tator into  the  belief  that  it  is  really  folds  of  linen  thrown 
upon  the  statue. 

That  beautiful  statue  called  the  Mercury  of  the  Belvedere, 
or  the  Belvedere  Antinous,  is  an  image  of  blooming  youth 
that  is  absolutely  faultless  in  its  execution.  The  longer  you 
gaze  the  more  its  exquisite  proportions  grow  upon  you,  and 
it  seems  as  handsome  as  a  blooming,  youthful  male  figure 
can  possibly  be  without  being  a  woman.  Perfectly  sym- 
metrical in  all  its  proportions,  with  calm,  thoughtful  fea- 
tures, yet  those  of  youth  and  beauty,  with  round  and  appar- 
ently elastic  limbs,  well-balanced  head,  and  drapery  thrown 
over  the  left  shoulder,  the  figure  stands  the  perfection 
of  the  sculptor's  art.     It  was  discovered  near  the  Baths  of 


196  THE    LAOCOON. 

Titus,  on  tlio  Esqniliiie  Hill,  in  the  j^ear  1179,  and  is  sculp- 
tured in  Parian  marble. 

We  now  come  to  the  cabinet  containing-  that  wonderful 
g-ronp,  the  Laocoon,  —  a  group  so  familiar  to  all  the  world 
from  its  representation  in  every  picture-book  of  Rome, 
child's  histories,  and  plaster  reproductions  in  art  galleries, 
and  even  paintings.  A  group  so  well  known  to  you  as  this 
can  hardly  excite  much  enthusiasm,  you  think.  But  wait 
till  you  see  this,  the  original,  and  you  will  find,  like  all  the 
great  wonders  of  ancient  statuary,  the  originals  are  really 
inimitable,  —  they  cannot  be  successfully  copied.  You 
seem  to  see  the  beauties,  the  grandeur,  the  story,  in  marble, 
the  poetry  of  the  sculptor  that  you  have  heai'd,  read,  and 
studied,  and  tried  to  appreciate  when  looking  at  copies,  now 
for  the  first  time,  as  you  gaze  upon  the  great  original. 

And  an  enjoyment  it  is  to  gaze  upon  the  very  statue 
described  by  Pliny  as  standing  in  the  palace  of  the  Emperor 
Titus,  sculptured  from  a  single  block  of  marble.  Yes,  here 
was  a  group  of  statuary  described  by  an  historian  not  half 
a  century  after  the  death  of  the  Saviour,  which  was  taken 
from  the  ruins  fourteen  hundred  and  fifty  years  afterwards 
at  the  very  place  in  which  he  had  located  it ;  for  it  was  dug 
out  of  the  ruins  of  the  palace  of  the  conqueror  of  Jerusa- 
lem in  1506.  This  grand  group  must  of  course  have  been 
a  perfectly  ideal  one,  for  the  sculptors  could  have  had  no 
model  representing  men  in  the  folds  of  enormous  snakes, 
nor  the  convulsions  of  their  bodies  while  in  the  agony  of 
those  terrible  coils  ;  and  yet  the  highest  authorities  of  each 
succeeding  generation  pronounce  them  perfect  in  all  ana- 
tomical details,  and  the  agony  of  expression  all  that  the 
most  careful  study  of  features,  aided  by  powerful  imagina- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  artist,  could  accomplish.  The  artists 
had  in  their  mind  the  perpetuation  of  a  great  event  in  the, 
to  them,  divine  history  of  the  gods,  —  the  punishment  of  a 
priest  of  Apollo  and  his  sons  at  the  very  altar  by  the  god's 
messengers  of  wrath,  the  serpents. 


A    STORY    T?r    BtAEBLE.  197 

Laocoon,  as  the  story  goes,  was  engaged  in  offering  a 
sacrifice  to  Neptune,  when  Apollo  sent  two  enormous  ser- 
pents from  the  island  of  Tencdos,  to  destroy  him.  Hast- 
ening through  the  sea,  they  seized  upon  the  priest  and 
his  sons  upon  the  very  stops  of  the  altar,  and  desti-oyed 
them,  and  by  their  death  decided  the  fate  of  Ti-oy  ;  for  it 
was  Laocoon,  it  will  be  remembered,  who  warned  the  Trojans 
against  the  great  wooden  horse  left  behind  by  the  Greeks 
after  their  apparent  retreat,  and,  his  death  being  considered 
divine  judgment,  his  advice  was  unheeded,  a  breach  made 
in  the  wall  for  the  admission  of  the  Grecian  image,  and  the 
result  Avas  Troy's  ruin. 

I  need  not  describe  the  group, — the  magnificent  figure 
of  the  father  falling  back  upon  the  altar,  his  superb  head 
and  the  features  upon  which  the  excess  of  agony  is  visible, 
the  thorough  anatomical  study  that  is  visible  in  every  detail 
in  the  whole  group,  the  contrast  of  action  of  the  elder  to 
that  of  the  more  youthful  figures,  the  management  of  the 
serpents,  whose  coils,  although  they  inclose  the  whole 
group,  are  so  arranged  by  the  sculptor  that  they  shall  in  no 
way  mar  the  proportions  of  the  figures  or  conceal  any  of 
their  beauties. 

It  is  a  story  in  marble  that  you  may  study  for  hours;  it  is 
a  conception  the  ingenuity  of  which  you  ma}^  wonder  at  ; 
it  is  a  work,  the  laborious  care  and  skill  of  execution  of 
which  may  well  fill  you  with  wonder  and  astonishment,  and 
one  respecting  which  many  have  agreed  with  Michael  Angelo, 
who  at  the  time  of  its  discovery  pronounced  it  to  be  a 
miracle  of  art.  A  more  modern  critic,  George  S.  Ilillard, 
an  American  classical  scholar  and  author,  very  truly  says, 
"  It  stands  upon  the  very  line  by  which  the  art  of  sculpture 
is  divided  from  poetry  and  painting,"  and  "is  one  of  those 
productions  that  would  have  been  pronounced  impossible 
had  they  never  been  executed." 

One  wonder  follows  on  another's  heels,  and  too  fast  they 
follow,  too,  for  real  enjoyment  in  these  four  chapels  of  art, 


198  THE    APOLLO    BELVEDERE. 

for  tho  art  lover  who  for  the  first  time  pays  his  devotions 
in  each.  If  he  does  it,  as  nearly  all  do,  at  one  visit,  he 
must  indeed  feed  to  very  gluttony  on  art ;  for  either  one  of 
these,  it  seems  to  me,  ought  to  be  enjoyed  by  separate 
visits  ;  but  it  is  these  great  wonders  of  art,  like  many  other 
European  sights,  must  be  enjoyed  as  we  have  opportunity. 
So  we  must  thrust  aside  for  the  time  being  all  our  thoughts 
and  contemplations  of  the  Laocoon  for  that  noblest  embodi- 
ment of  a  god  in  marble  — tho  Apollo  Belvedere. 

There  he  stands  in  the  well-known  and  graceful  attitude, 
his  face  one  of  noble  and  god-like  beauty,  the  pose  of  the 
graceful  head  with  its  luxurious  and  flowing  ringlets  indeed 
like  that  of  a  god,  the  lofty  brow  noble  and  intellectual, 
and  the  graceful  drapery  over  the  left  arm  just  sufficient  to 
relieve  the  slender  but  beautifully  rounded  figure,  radiant 
with  3'outhful  beauty.  It  is  a  statue  that  is  simple,  grand, 
and  fascinating  ;  its  grace,  lightness,  and  animation  go  to 
every  heart ;  and  this  statue  is  also  one  that  we  find  we  have 
hardly  had  a  correct  idea  of  until  now  gazing  upon  the 
original,  for  the  reason  that,  on  looking  at  the  original,  the 
inferiority  of  copies  is  appreciated. 

There  seems  to  be  a  controversy  among  antiquaries  and 
critics  respecting  the  Apollo  Belvedere  statue.  The  gener- 
ally accepted  theory  was,  and  still  is  with  many,  that  the 
god  is  represented  as  just  having  discharged  a  shaft  from  his 
"  unerring  bow  "  at  the  serpent  Python,  with  fatal  effect. 
Byron,  in  "  Childe  Harold,"  calls  him  "  Lord  of  the  un- 
erring bow,"   and  says  : 

"  The  shaft  has  just  been  shot  .  .  . 
With  an  inimortal's  vengeance." 

Another  poet,  Henry  Hart  Milman,  adopts  the  same  ex- 
planation in  his  perfect  description  of  this  elegant  statue  in 
the  following  lines  : 

''Bright  kindling  with  a  conqueror's  stern  delight, 
His  keen  eye  tracks  the  arrow's  fateful  flight ; 


"loed  of  the  unerring  bow."  199 

Burns  his  indignant  cheek  with  vengeful  fire, 
And  his  lip  quivers  with  insulting  ire ; 
Firm  fixed  his  tread,  yet  light  as  when  on  high 
He  walked  the  inipalpahle  and  pathless  sky ; 
The  rich  luxuriance  of  his  hair,  confined 
In  graceful  ringlets,  wantons  in  the  wind 
That  lifts  in  sport  his  mantle's  drooping  fold, 
Proud  to  display  that  form  of  faultless  mould." 

The  restorations  of  the  right  forearm  and  left  hand  were 
•made  in  accordance  with  this  theory  of  the  statue  represent- 
ing the  god  standing  in  the  position  as  just  having  discharged 
the  arrow  at  Python  ;  but  it  seems  that  the  discovery  of  a 
statuette  in  all  points  similar  to  that  of  the  Apollo  Belve- 
dere, and  evidently  copied  from  the  same  original,  shows 
that  the  original  did  not  hold  the  bow  iu  his  hand,  but  the 
Eegis  or  shield  of  Jupiter,  made  for  him  by  Vulcan,  bearing 
upon  its  front  the  head  of  Medusa,  and  used  for  putting  to 
flight  a  fatal  enemy.  The  eegis  bearing  Medusa's  head  was 
s^^mbol  of  storm  and  tempest,  and  was  lent  to  Apollo,  ac- 
cording to  Homer's  Iliad,  and  with  it  he  drove  back  the 
busts  of  the  Achaians.  Hence  it  is  decided  lij'  some  author- 
ities that  the  extended  left  arm  (restored)  bore  the  terrify- 
ing shield,  and  that  by  the  same  reason  the  left  hand,  also 
a  restoration,  is  not  in  correct  position. 

It  is  unpleasant  to  have  all  our  early  dreams  and  tlie  idols 
of  our  imagination  thus  rudely  shattered,  and,  notwith- 
standing the  antiquarian  research  which  places  a  shield  upon 
the  arm  instead  of  a  bow  in  the  hand,  I  still  hold  that  as 
"  lord  of  the  unerring  bow  "  the  statue  better  fills  out  one's 
idea  of  the  true  representation  of  the  god.  This  grand 
work  of  art,  supposed  to  have  been  executed  in  the  time  of 
Nero,  was  discovered  near  Antium  in  1503,  and  was  among 
the  earliest  specimens  of  ancient  sculpture  placed  in  the 
Vatican,  forming,  in  fact,  a  nucleus  around  which  a  large 
portion  of  the  present  collection  of  the  gallery  of  statues 
has  gathered. 

Around,  in  the  vicinity  of  this  court  of  the  Belvedere,  are 


200  A    MEXAGERIE    IX    MARBLE. 

several  magnificent  specimens  of  huge  bathing-tubs  cut  from 
elegant  rod  poi-phyiy,  red  granite,  or  porphyry  and  black 
basalt.  These  great  tubs  are  huge  in  size,  but  elegantly 
sculptured,  susceptible  of,  and  have  a  polish  on  them  like 
glass,  and  were  found  at  the  Baths  of  Caracalla ;  and,  with 
their  sculptured  lions'  heads,  rings  cut  from  the  solid  stone, 
and  excellent  workmanship,  are  as  striking  specimens  of  the 
luxury  of  their  time  and  evidence  of  the  abundance  of 
skilled  labor  in  tliose  days  as  can  be  produced  ;  for  tlio  labor^ 
upon  them  must  have  been  enormous,  and  the  skill  required 
to  produce  the  artistic  effect,  displayed  even  in  these  com- 
paratively common  objects,  is  of  no  common  order,  as  can 
easily  be  seen  by  the  visitor. 

In  the  hall,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  Apollo  Bel- 
vedere, stands  a  statue  larger  than  life  of  Ilygieia,  with  the 
symbolic  serpent  about  her  arm,  and  cup  in  hand.  This 
figure  will  strike  every  person  who  has  ever  seen  the 
Zenobia  of  the  American  sculptor.  Miss  Hosmer,  by  its 
many  points  of  resemblance,  and  suggests  the  thought  that 
the  artist  of  the  latter  figure  may  have  used  this  as  a  study. 

From  these  art  chapels,  where  we  have  been  paying  our 
homage  to  the  grand  art  models  of  the  world,  we  pass  on  to 
what  might  perhaps  be  denominated  a  menagerie  in  marble, 
which  is  known  as  the  Hall  of  Animals,  and  is  the  rarest 
and  finest  collection  of  animals  in  Greek  and  Roman  sculp- 
ture in  existence.  Having  passed  two  colossal  dogs  that 
guard  the  entrance,  we  find  an  inlaid  pavement,  black  and 
white  pilasters  of  Egyptian  granite,  and  rich  and  beautiful 
marbles  and  mosaics  attracting  the  gaze. 

Of  what  is  before  us  we  can  take  but  a  passing  glance. 
The  two  greyhounds  playing  together,  a  graceful  group  ;  the 
Hercules  dragging  away  the  Nemasan  lion  ;  a  fine  statue  of 
Commodus  on  horseback  ;  a  beautiful  group,  well  preserved, 
of  a  shepherd  sleeping,  with  his  goats  grazing  about  him  ; 
beautiful  group  of  a  stag  attacked  by  a  dog.  But  I  shall 
only  be   re-enumerating  a  catalogue   to  go  on  ;  suffice  it  to 


THE    HALL    OF    STATUES.  201 

say  that  there  is  sufficient  of  the  curious  as  well  as  the  ar- 
tistic work  of  the  sculptor's  chisel  to  make  one  long-  to  give 
more  time  than  the  author  could  devote  to  it.  I  remember 
among  other  objects  an  admirably  sculptured  goose  in  a  per- 
fectly natural  attitude,  showing  that  the  sculptor  had  studied 
the  habits  of  the  bird  of  the  Capitol  ;  a  toad  in  antique  red 
marble,  and  a  lobster  in  green,  looking  very  like  a  real  one  ; 
magnificent  lions,  a  panther  in  striped  marble,  and  a  superb 
tiger  in  Egyptian  granite  ;  a  huge  lion  in  gray  marble,  the 
very  king  of  beasts  himself ;  and  to  my  astonishment  a  cow, 
sculptured  from  brown  marble,  an  admirably  executed  figure, 
too  ;  and  a  sow  surrounded  by  twelve  pigs. 

You  are  astonished  at  the  fidelity  of  execution  and  the 
life  and  grace  that  seem  to  be  put  into  the  stony  repre- 
sentations of  animals  who  would  seem  to  be  out  of  the  pale 
of  art,  be  it  rhinoceros'  or  camel's  heads,  baboon,  or  even  a 
hedgehog,  rats  and  crabs,  for  they  are  all  here. 

The  Hall  of  Statues,  so  called,  is  a  magnificent  gallery 
richly  decorated,  and  the  pavement  inlaid  with  beautiful 
marbles  of  different  colors.  Great  marble  pilasters  with 
Ionic  capitals  of  white  marble  support  grand  arches  and 
superbly  decorated  vaults  and  ceiling.  The  hall  is  a  long 
gallery  with  walls  of  marble,  a  wondrous  decoration  above, 
and  a  double  line  of  great  masterpieces  of  art  on  either  side 
for  the  visitor  to  inspect,  and  directly  in  the  middle  of  the 
hall  a  superb  bath  of  Oriental  alabaster. 

In  this  hall  stands  the  statue  of  Clodius  Albinus,  the  col- 
league, but  afterwards  the  opponent  of  Septimius  Severus. 
The  armor  of  this  figure  is  sculptured  with  dancing  figures, 
and  the  statue  itself  stands  upon  a  pedestal  upon  which  is 
inscribed  that  it  marked  where  Caius  Caesar's  remains  were 
burned.  A  sitting  figure  of  Paris,  larger  than  life,  I  halted 
to  examine,  because  the  names  of  the  artisans  of  the  im- 
perial mint,  who  in  the  time  of  Trajan  dedicated  it  to  Her- 
cules, are  sculptured  upon  one  side  of  the  pedestal,  to  the 
number  of  more  than  sixty  in  all. 


202  NERO    AS    APOLLO  ! 

Here  you  will  see  a  specimen  of  the  supposed  original 
work  of  Praxiteles,  which  is  therefore,  I  suppose,  denomi- 
nated in  the  guide-books  as  the  Genius  of  the  Vatican.  It 
is  the  half  figure  Of  a  Cupid  in  Parian  marble,  the  wings 
gone,  but  the  place  at  the  shoulders  where  they  were  fast- 
ened distinctly  visible.  The  statue  was  brought  from 
Greece  by  Caligula,  and  is  spoken  of  by  Pliny  as  having 
been  admired  in  the  portico  of  Octavia.  It  was  discovered 
by  Gavin  Hamilton,  a  Scotch  painter,  in  the  Via  Labicana. 
It  is  a  figure  of  most  exquisite  expression,  and  the  head 
especially  a  marvellously  beautiful  piece  of  sculpture. 

If  the  visitor  undertakes  to  examine  and  study  all  the 
sculptures  in  this  gallery  carefully,  he  will  find  that  he  has 
no  light  task  before  him  ;  nor  can  the  author  undertake  to 
enumerate  even  the  most  distinguished. 

The  celebrated  statue  of  Ariadne,  daughter  of  Minos, 
lying  upon  the  rock  on  the  sea-shore  of  Naxos,  after  being 
abandoned  by  her  unfaithful  lover,  is  another  story  in  mar- 
ble. The  countenance  displays  grief  and  despondency  even 
in  sleep  ;  the  head  resting  upon  one  arm,  and  the  other 
thrown  above  it,  the  graceful  folds  of  drapery  over  the 
lower  limbs,  and  the  tunic  that  has  partly  dropped  from  the 
left  shoulder  revealing  the  beautiful  bosom,  —  are  details 
wrought  out  in  the  marble  with  such  faithfulness  and  exqui- 
site skill  that  I  cannot  resist  referring  to  this  beautiful 
statue. 

'  Nor  can  I  pass  unmentioned  a  sitting  figure  of  Nero  as 
Apollo  (heaven  save  the  mark  !)  He  is  represented  as 
crowned  with  laurel  and  plaj'ing  on  the  lyre,  and  the  statue 
is  one  of  the  few  that  escaped  the  destruction  ordered  by 
the  senate  and  the  outraged  Roman  people. 

This  Gallery  of  Statues  and  the  Hall  of  Busts  are,  as  it 
were,  all  one  collection,  and  divided  only  by  an  archway, 
the  latter  being  a  continuation  of  the  former.  On  each  side 
of  this  archway  sat  two  grand  figures  in  easy  attitudes,  as 
if  resting  themselves  in  their  senatorial  chairs  after  having 


HALL    OF    THE    MUSES.  203 

delivered  an  oration.  Supposing  they  must  have  been  great 
orators  or  emperors,  I  consulted  my  catalogue  to  find  that 
they  were  Posidippus  and  Menander,  two  Greek  poets,  or 
rather  masters  of  Greek  comedy,  supposed  to  be  the  original 
works  of  Cephisodotus,  son  of  Praxiteles.  They  are  both  \\\ 
excellent  preservation,  and  fine  specimens  of  portrait  statues. 

A  specimen  of  the  oldest  and  best  style  of  Greek  sculp- 
ture is  a  colossal  sitting  statue  of  Jupiter,  represented  hold- 
ing his  thunderbolts  and  sceptre,  and  with  the  eagle  at  his 
feet.  This  was  one  of  the  first  sculptures  placed  in  the  Hall 
of  Busts,  and  is  one  of  the  best  in  it.  Portrait  busts  in 
abundance  we  must  pass  with  a  glance,  such  as  that  of 
Hadrian,  found  at  Tivoli ;  the  best  known  bust  of  Caracalla  ; 
a  beautiful  head  of  Isis  crowned  with  diadem  and  lotus 
flower  ;  a  beautiful  helmeted  head  called  Menelaus,  the  helmet 
adorned  with  sculptured  representations  of  the  combats  of 
Hercules  and  the  Centaurs.  This  portion  of  the  Gallery  of 
Statues,  known  as  the  Hall  of  Busts,  although  a  small  part 
of  the  museum,  is  rich  in  likenesses,  and  is  really  quite  an 
important  and  interesting  one  in  an  historical  or  mythological 
point  of  view. 

Out  from  the  Hall  of  Animals  I  strolled  into  another,  — 
Sala  delle  Muse,  Hall  of  the  Muse,  —  an  octagonal  hall  en- 
riched by  sixteen  Corinthian  columns  of  gray  Carrara  marble 
brought  from  Hadrian's  Villa,  and  paved  with  rich  ara- 
besques and  mosaics.  What  a  beautiful  room  this  seemed, 
the  very  chosen  home  of  art,  —  the  softened  light  streaming 
down  from  above,  its  large  dome  decorated  with  elegant  fres- 
cos appropriate  for  the  place,  such  as  paintings  of  Homer 
singing  his  poem  and  Minerva  listening  in  the  clouds  above, 
Apollo  and  the  Muses  ;  Tasso,  Virgil,  and  other  poets. 

Besides  myself,  there  chanced  to  be  but  two  other  visitors 
whom  I  could  see,  and  they  were  standing  motionless  in  mute 
admiration  of  the  noble  and  graceful  figure  of  Melpomene, 
one  of  the  best  of  the  statues  of  the  Muses,  from  which  this 
chamber  takes  its  name. 


204  THE    MUSES    IN   MARBLE. 

Standing",  poniard  and  mask  in  hand,  with  her  loose 
hair  intermingled  with  grapes,  a  grave  expression  of  counte- 
nance, and  beautifully  sculptured  drapery,  the  figure  was 
one  with  so  manj^  lines  of  beauty  visible,  that  it  is  worth 
more  study  than  we  could  give  it,  for  here  were  her  sisters, 
also,  to  claim  our  notice  :  Thalia,  seated  with  her  sandalled 
feet  peeping  from  beneath  her  robe,  and  her  head  crowned 
with  iv3' ;  Terpsichore,  with  her  ivy  crown  and  musical  lyre  ; 
Calliope,  which  some  consider  the  finest  of  the  whole,  seated 
in  meditative  attitude  upon  a  rock  with  tablets  in  hand,  and 
drapery  so  perfect  as  to  make  that  portion  of  the  sculps 
tor's  work  absolutely  faultless — artistic  perfection;  Clio, 
crowned  with  laurel,  with  scroll  of  papyrus  across  her 
knees  ;  Urania,  globe  and  stylus  in  hand  ;  Polyhymnia, 
with  head  wreathed  with  roses,  and  the  rich  folds  of  her 
mantle  falling  to  her  feet ;  Erato,  with  tortoise-shell  lyre  ; 
—  all  these  beautiful  figures  sculptured  elegantly  in  marble, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  Urania  and  Erato,  I  think,  were 
discovered  at  the  rustic  villa  of  Cassius,    in  Tivoli,  in  1*174:. 

Here  is  a  fine  statue  of  Silenus  clothed  in  a  tiger-skin,  and 
squeezing  a  bunch  of  grapes  into  a  cup,  a  sort  of  primitive 
wine-making  that  has  been  improved  upon.  Then  there  was 
a  bust  with  such  a  Silenus  cast  of  countenance  that  one 
might  well  take  it  for  a  head  of  the  foster-father  of  Bacchus, 
had  not  the  Greek  sculptor  taken  care  to  have  cut  the  name 
of  Socrates  upon  it.  We  are  reminded,  however,  that 
although  Socrates  was  the  greatest  philosopher  of  his  age, 
he  was  one  of  the  ugliest-looking  men  of  his  time.  This 
may  be  comforting  to  those  remarkably  plain-looking  people 
of  our  own  day,  who  are  generally  most  enthusiastic  in 
praising  the  beauties  of  the  mind. 

Then  there  was  old  Diogenes,  like  many  people  nowadays, 
whose  rude  manners  wei'c  endured  on  account  of  his  smart 
sayings.  While  I  was  looking  at  the  statue  of  Lycurgus, 
the  Spartan  legislator,  Avho  stands  pointing  to  his  eye  de- 
stroyed by  a  passionate  youth  in  one  of  tlio  tumults  which 


A    SUSPECTED    CHARACTER.  205 

his  reforms  excited,  and  remembering  that  I  had  studied  the 
story  that  this  bearded  old  law-maker  had  abolished  gold  and 
silver  currency,  and  substituted  iron  in  its  stead,  I  remem- 
bered that  we  did  not  erect  statues  in  America  to  those  who 
compelled  us  to  use  substitutes  for  gold  and  silver,  but  were 
more  inclined  to  immortalize  those  who  should  restore  to 
us  the  metallic  circulating  medium. 

These  meditations  were  interrupted,  however,  by  the  oflS- 
cial  whose  duty  it  was  to  warn  us  that  the  time  had  arrived 
to  move  on,  as  the  museum  was  to  close,  and  who  seemed 
to  have  an  Italian  suspicion  that  the  pencilled  notes  grasped 
in  my  hand  were  some  species  of  illegal  memoranda  that 
laid  me  open  to  suspicion  ;  whereupon  a  sharp  discussion 
ensued  between  that  functionary  and  my  valet  de  place, 
which  was  ended  satisfactorily,  as  I  had  "taken  no  draw- 
ings," and  gratefully  on  the  part  of  the  custodian,  who  was 
now  getting  better  acquainted  with  us,  as  he  pocketed  a 
franc  pour  buire. 

Are  we  never  to  get  through  with  this  museum  of  statues, 
this  wilderness  of  marble  ?  Verily,  I  thought  so  mj'self,  as 
I  sauntered  among  them  day  after  day,  hour  after  hour, 
and  almost  guiltily  felt  that  I  had  passed  by  many  serried 
rows  without  even  a  glance,  in  order  to  see  those  which 
none  could  afford  to  miss.  So,  when  I  stood  in  the  rotunda, 
or  circular  hall  of  the  Vatican,  "  Sala  Rotonda  "  they  call 
it,  I  found  tliat  this  was  one  of  those  halls  that  should  on  no 
account  be  omitted. 

The  arcliitect  who  built  this  beautiful  hall  took  his  idea 
for  its  form  from  the  dome  of  the  Parthenon,  and  it  seems 
as  if  built  especially  to  receive  its  grand  central  ornament, 
a  magnificent  cup  of  red  porphyry,  forty-six  feet  in  circum- 
ference, found  in  the  Baths  of  Diocletian.  This  cup  or  vase, 
which  looks  like  a  great  card-receiver,  is  so  beautifully 
polished  as  to  seem  partly  filled  with  water.  One  can  but 
reflect  what  an  enormous  amount  of  time  and  labor,  to  say 
nothing  of  skill,  must  have  been   expended  on  this  vase, 


206  SALA   ROTONDA. 

since,  even  if  it  could  be  reproduced  to-day,  it  would  not 
pay  to  do  it,  the  expense  would  be  so  great.  It  stands 
upon  the  largest  and  most  beautiful  mosaic  known,  which 
was  found  at  Otricoli  in  1780.  It  is  a  series  of  concentric 
bands,  representing  combats  of  centaurs,  water-nymphs, 
tritons,  and  sea-monsters,  and  beautiful  wreaths  of  flowers, 
with  a  grand  head  of  Medusa  in  the  centre.  The  outside 
border  of  the  passage  around  the  hall  is  in  black-and-white 
ancient  mosaic,  representing  scenes  in  the  life  of  Ulysses, 
Neptune  and  his  sea-horses,  and  other  mythological  monsters. 

The  cupola  of  this  beautiful  hall  is  upheld  by  ten  fluted 
pilasters  of  Carrara  marble,  between  each  two  of  which  are 
niches  to  hold  the  large  statues  ;  and  before  each  pilaster 
are  red  marble  brackets  for  the  busts,  which,  with  the  ele- 
gant gilding  and  ornamental  wall-painting,  combine  to 
render  this  an  appropriate  and  rich  casket  for  the  gems  it 
contains. 

The  principal  attraction  is  the  colossal  bronze  statue  of 
Hercules,  twelve  feet  in  height,  which  was  discovered  in 
1861,  hidden  in  a  marble  case,  while  digging  to  repair  the 
foundation  of  a  palace  that  now  stands  where  once  stood 
the  Theatre  of  Pompey.  The  statue  represents  Hercules 
leaning  upon  his  club,  with  a  lion's  skin  thrown  over  his 
left  arm.  In  one  hand  he  holds  the  Hesperidian  fruit,  and 
the  whole  form  exhibits  the  strength  which  the  demigod  was 
said  to  possess. 

Another  colossal  statue  of  note  is  that  of  Antinous,  with 
ringlets  flowing  down  over  neck  and  shoulders,  and  head 
crowned  with  flowers.  Then  there  is  the  colossal  head  of 
Hadrian,  found  in  his  mausoleum,  now  the  Castle  of  St. 
Angelo  (which  has  already  been  described),  and  supposed  to 
have  belonged  to  a  colossal  statue  of  the  emperor.  The 
Juno  Barberini,  which  stands  in  another  of  the  ten  arches 
of  this  rotunda,  is  a  superb  colossal  statue,  and  said  to  be 
one  of  the  most  perfect  specimens  of  antique  sculpture  in 
existence.     Of  course  it  is  "said  to  be,"  or  "  supposed  to 


HALL  OF  THE  GREEK  CROSS.  207 

be,"  a  fine  copy  of  a  similar  work  by  Praxiteles.  He  and 
Phidias  were  probably  quoted  by  the  Roman  and  Grecian 
critics  of  sculpture,  as  Garrick  and  Cooke  are  to-day  by  our 
modern  theatrical  scribblers.  The  noble  expression  of  the 
face  of  this  statue  is  that  of  a  goddess,  its  finish  admirable, 
its  arrangement  of  drapery  and  whole  execution  grand,  and 
all  artists  recognize  in  it  a  masterpiece  in  marble. 

I  cannot  leave  the  rotunda  without  a  word  respecting  the 
beautiful  colossal  sitting  statue  of  the  first  good  Roman 
emperor,  Nerva,  who  had  no  claim  for  that  rank  but  a  good 
character  and  correct  life,  something  rare  in  those  who 
aspired  to  be  emperors  in  his  day.  This  statue  is  one  of 
the  real  treasures  of  antiquity  preserved  in  the  Vatican,  and 
represents  Nerva  with  majestic  countenance,  characterized 
by  force  and  dignity.  The  upper  part  of  the  body  is  bare 
and  the  head  crowned  with  a  bronze  wreath  of  oak-leaves. 
Merivale,  in  his  "  History  of  the  Romans  under  the  Empire," 
says  this  statue  embodies  "  the  highest  ideal  of  the  Roman 
magnate,  the  finished  warrior,  statesman,  and  gentleman  of 
an  age  of  varied  training  and  wide  practical  experience  ;  " 
and  "  if  we  really  contemplate  his  likeness  in  the  noble 
figure  in  the  Vatican,  we  may  fairly  say  of  the  prince,  as  the 
historian  afiirms  of  the  general,  '  You  might  easily  deem  him 
good,  you  would  willingly  believe  him  great.'  " 

As  the  hall  of  the  rotunda  was  specially  designed  for  its 
contents,  so  in  a  measure  was  that  known  as  the  Hall  of  the 
Greek  Cross,  so  called  from  its  shape,  it  being  divided  into 
four  compartments.  It  was  constructed  more  especially  for 
the  two  enormous  sarcophagi  of  red  Egyptian  porphyry 
placed  respectively  in  the  right  and  left  arms  or  compart- 
ments of  the  cross.  This  porphyry,  so  hard  to  cut,  is  sus- 
ceptible of  a  high  polish,  and  the  sarcophagus  of  it  here, 
which  was  taken  from  a  mausoleum  of  the  daughter  of  Con- 
stantino the  Great,  gleams  like  a  purplish-red  carnelian,  and 
is  indeed  a  colossal  gem.  It  is  ornamented  with  bas-reliefs 
of  Cupids  gathering  and  pressing  grapes,   and   figures   of 


208  MAGNIFICENT   MOSAIC    PAVEMENT. 

sheep,  birds,  festoons,  and  arabesques.  This  costly  coffin 
once  held  the  remains  of  the  daughter  of  Constantine,  who 
died  A.  D.  354. 

The  other  sarcophagus,  opposite,  is  still  larger,  and  is  said 
to  have  occupied  the  constant  labor  of  twenty-five  sculptors 
for  nine  years,  who  worked  diligently  by  orders  of  the 
Emperor  Constantine  to  make  a  costly  casket,  worthy  as  a 
receptacle  for  the  remains  of  his  mother.  It  is  sculptured 
with  her  portrait  bust,  and  with  equestrian  figures  and  rep- 
resentations of  the  triumphs  of  the  emperor  ;  and,  besides 
being  a  monument  to  her  whose  ashes  it  held,  is  one  of 
patient  industry  and  enormous  labor,  and,  like  some  of  the 
great  porphyry  vases,  when  the  present  money  value  of 
labor,  even  in  those  countries  where  it  is  cheapest,  is  taken 
into  consideration,  the  result  to  be  obtained  now  upon  such 
a  work  would  not  warrant  its  being  undertaken. 

In  the  middle  of  this  Hall  of  the  Greek  Cross  is  a  magnifi- 
cent specimen  of  mosaic  pavement,  in  circular  form,  and 
inclosed  by  a  railing  to  protect  it  from  the  profane  tread  of 
the  moderns.  It  was  discovered  in  the  Villa  of  Cicero  in 
1741.  It  is  a  set  of  circles,  festoons,  and  symbolic  figures, 
and  among  others  is  a  beautiful  representation  of  a  bust  of 
Minerva,  with  the  head  of  Medusa  on  the  breast,  helmet, 
and  shield.  On  a  portion  of  one  of  the  rings  of  mosaic  were 
various  phases  of  the  moon  represented,  also  planets,  tragic 
and  comic  masks,  &c.,  all  in  beautiful  and  quite  fresh'  colors. 
In  this  hall  is  the  half-draped  statue  of  Augustus,  which  is 
remarkable  for  the  likeness  it  bears  to  the  first  Napoleon, 
and  perhaps  may  have  led  him  to  think  he  really  bore  re- 
semblance to  some  of  the  Caesars  in  look  as  well  as  military 
achievements. 

In  this  hall  I  was  halted  by  the  guide  to  view  what  was 
called  the  Venus  of  Cnidos,  a  statue  somewhat  larger  than 
life,  and  said  to  be  the  most  perfect  copy,  known  of  the 
Cnidian  Venus  of  Praxiteles,  which  was  lost  in  a  fire  at 
Byzantium  at  the  close  of  the  fourth  century.     It  is  really 


HALL    OF    THE    CHARIOT.  209 

a  majestic  and  lovely  figure,  but  is  marred,  in  my  opinion, 
by  a  bronze  drapery  which  covers  the  lower  limbs. 

We  leave  this  hall  and  its  wonders  behind  as  we  ascend 
to  the  Sala  della  Biga,  or  Hall  of  the  Cliariot,  a  splendid 
hall,  octagonal  in  form  ;  dome  modelled  after  style  of  the 
Pantheon,  and  supported  by  eight  fluted  columns  with  Co- 
rinthian capitals.  The  pavement  of  this  hall  is  elegantly 
inlaid  with  different  specimens  of  rich  marble,  in  which 
appear  the  family  arms  of  Pius  VI.,  who  erected  it  especially 
to  receive  the  ancient  Biga,  or  two-wheeled  chariot,  from 
which  it  takes  its  name.  The  original  of  this  beautiful 
restoration  in  marble  —  for  it  is  mainly  a  restoration  of  an 
ancient  Grecian  chariot  and  horses  —  once  stood  in  some 
temple  dedicated  to  the  sun,  and  it  is  really  a  magnificent 
work  of  art.  Only  the  body  of  the  chariot  and  a  portion 
of  one  of  the  horses  are  ancient,  but  its  skilful  restoration 
gives  us  doubtless  a  correct  idea  of  the  antique  Grecian  and 
Roman  chariot. 

The  body  of  the  chariot  was  used  for  a  long  time  as  an 
episcopal  throne  in  the  Church  of  St.  Mark  in  Rome.  It  is 
beautifully  carved  with  foliage,  arabesques,  and  scroll  work. 
So  is  the  pole,  which  terminates  in  a  ram's  head,  and  the 
wheels,  of  which  lions'  heads  form  the  hubs  ;  the  horses  are 
in  spirited  action,  poised  upon  their  hind  legs;  and  all  that 
is  wanted  is  the  Roman  charioteer,  leaning  forward,  reins  in 
hand,  and  standing  beside  him,  with  shield  advanced  on  left 
arm,  and  javelin  raised  on  high  for  deadly  cast,  the  helmet- 
crowned  soldier  of  the  Roman  legion. 

Notwithstanding  the  romance  thrown  around  the  war- 
chariots  b}^  the  old  poets  and  painters,  and  beautiful  as  they 
look  in  sculpture,  they  must  have  been  terribly  inconvenient 
and  uncomfortable  vehicles  in  reality,  the  body  resting  as 
it  did  dinjctl}''  upon  the  heavy  axle  without  the  intervention 
of  springs,  with  a  stiff,  immovable,  and  clumsy  pole.  They 
must  also  have  been  exceedingly  dangerous  to  have  ridden 
in,  in  battle,  from  their  liability  to  upset,  and  the  effort 
14 


210  THE    QUOIT-THROWERS. 

necessary  on  the  part  of  the  occupants  to  keep  upright 
during  their  terrible  jolting.  It  is  probable  that  chariots  in 
battle  may  have  existed  more  in  the  active  imaginations  of 
poets  and  historians  than  in  realitj'',  for  it  would  certainly 
seem  safer  for  a  soldier  to  fight  on  foot  than  in  one  of  these 
clumsily  contrived  vehicles. 

The  visitor  may  study  charioteer  as  well  as  chariot  here, 
for  not  far  distant  stands  a  beautiful  statue  of  a  Roman 
charioteer  of  the  circus,  dressed  in  costume,  his  body 
adorned  with  corselet  and  bands,  his  left  hand  grasping  the 
reins,  and  his  right  bearing  the  palm-branch  of  victory  won 
in  the  race.  Upon  a  sarcophagus  here  is  represented  a 
chariot-race  in  bas-relief — that  of  Pelops  and  King  Ono- 
maus,  described  in  the  tragedies  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides, 

Ah  1  Here  is  an  old  familiar  friend, — familiar  from  the 
many  times  we  have  seen  him,  interesting  as  an  illustrator 
of  the  athletic  games  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  —  Disco- 
bolus, or  the  quoit-thrower,  in  the  act  of  hurling  the  discus 
or  quoit ;  giving  us  in  his  attitude  the  manner  in  which  the 
quoit  was  held,  and  one  of  the  positions  taken  by  the  play- 
ers in  throwing  it.  This  figure,  so  full  of  life  and  action, 
was  discovered  in  HSl,  and  is  so  well  known  as  not  to 
require  description;  as  is  also  its  companion,  the  Discobolus 
in  Repose,  which  is  a  far  more  beautiful  statue,  as  it  stands 
in  its  simple,  natural  attitude,  with  the  riglit  foot  thrown 
forward,  the  left  hand  holding  the  discus  carelessly  at  the 
side,  the  right  hand  slightly  extended,  ready  to  receive  the 
disc  that  he  shall  soon  transfer  to  it,  and  as  though  half 
pointing  to  or  indicating  a  position  to  be  taken  by  the  player, 
who  appears  to  bo  thoughtfully  regarding  the  ground  before 
him.  This  beautiful  statue,  the  reproductions  of  which  are  so 
frequently  seen  in  our  public  galleries,  or  the  halls  and  libra- 
ries of  private  dwellings,  is  in  excellent  preservation,  and 
one  of  that  exquisite  beaut}'  of  style  which  insensibly  claims 
your  admiration  to  such  a  degree  that  you  linger  long  be- 
fore it  and  hesitate  to  leave  for  other  attractions. 


THE    FATIGUE    OF    SIGHT    SEEIXG.  211 

But  go  we  must,  and  hardly  pause  even  to  look  at  a 
noble  statue  of  that  old  x\tlicnian  general  and  philosopher, 
Phocion,  with  helmeted  head  and  simple  and  beautifully 
executed  drapery.  Go  we  must,  for  we  were  desirous  of 
change,  a  rest  from  statues  and  sculpture. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  these  descriptions 
arc  the  result  of  consecutive  visits  to  the  Vatican,  for, 
should  the  tourist  or  visitor  commence  such  an  undertaking 
with  the  determination  of  seeing  the  whole  contents  thor- 
oughly, he  would  not  only  soon  find  pleasure  become  labor, 
and  labor  exhaustion  and  satiety,  but  would  despair  of  car- 
rying out  any  such  idea.  Description  is  given  in  these 
pages,  of  the  Vatican  collection  as  a  whole,  for  convenience' 
sake,  though  repeated  visits  to  it,  made  at  intervals,  the 
intervals  being  occupied  by  excursions  to  other  sights  of 
entirely  different  character,  enable  the  visitor  the  better  to 
enjoy  and  appreciate  what  he  sees  of  it.  I  say  what  he 
sees  of  it,  for  it  appeared  to  me  that  no  one,  unless  he  lived 
a  dozen  years  in  Rome,  and  devoted  himself  entirely  to 
that  object,  could  accomplish  it.  Looking,  gazing,  walking, 
wandering  through  galleries,  is  terribly  fatiguing  Avork,  and 
after  a  while  your  critical  examination,  noting  in  note-book 
or  storing  away  in  memory,  becomes  so  much  like  a  regular 
task,  that  you  are  wont  to  ask  yourself,  And  is  this  travel- 
ling for  pleasure  ?  Is  this  leisure,  or  is  it  severe  labor  ? 
Your  acliiiig  limbs  and  tired  brain  at  night  are  apt  to  incline 
3^ou  often  to  the  latter  opinion.  But  it  is  after  one's  return 
home  that  much  of  the  real  enjoyment  comes  in  the  recol- 
lection of  what  has  been  seen,  refreshed  by  notes,  photo- 
graphs, and  other  mementos  of  the  journey.  Then  history 
becomes  doubly  interesting,  and  the  art  treasures  of  the  old 
world  are  invested  with  a  charm  not  known  before. 

I  confess  to  looking  forward  to  the  Etruscan  Museum,  or 
Collection  of  Etruscan  Antiquities,  with  pleasurable  antici- 
pation, but  feared  exhaustion  from  other  sight-seeing  before 
I  might  be  able  to  reach  it.     Much  as  we  may  be  interested 


212  THE  ETRUSCAX  MUSEUM. 

in  the  ancient  Roman  antiquities,  it  is  something'  still  more 
interesting-  to  pass  from  galleries  in  which  they  are  pre- 
served, into  others  containing  those  of  a  nation  that  was  in 
existence  anterior  to  the  foundation  of  Rome,  a  country 
Avhich  embraced  almost  the  whole  of  Italy,  before  Romulus 
and  Remus  had  fixed  the  site  for  their  city. 

Dionysius  wrote,  "The  Etruscans  do  not  resemble  any 
people  in  language  or  manners."  But  one  thing  is  certain, 
from  what  little  is  known  of  them,  that  they  exerted  an 
immense  influence  on  Roman,  and  even  European  civil- 
ization. 

The  seventh  and  earlier  part  of  the  sixth  century  before 
Christ  was  probably  the  most  flourishing  Etruscan  epoch, 
and  the  nation  had  thon  been  in  existence  for  half  a  thou- 
sand years.  Historians  place  its  decline  as  standing  in  an 
inverted   ratio   to   the   rise   of  Rome. 

The  Etruscans  possessed  a  high  degree  of  civilization 
and  art  long  before  Rome  was  heard  of;  in  fact,  the  Ro- 
mans borrowed  from  and  imitated  them  in  utensils,  works 
of  art,  buildings, — for  the  Romans  sent  to  Etruria  for 
architects  for  some  of  their  most  famous  buildings,  and 
their  vases,  caskets,  and  jewelry  were  sent  into  Rome,  or 
imitated  by  Roman  workmen.  And  it  is  this  beautiful 
Avorkmanship  of  jewelry  and  ornamental  work  of  the  ancient 
Etruscans  that  you  see  in  this  museum,  that  causes  you  to 
be  astonished  that  so  little  improvement  should  have  been 
made  in  so  many  hundreds  cf  j^ears.  These  people  appear 
to  have  been  the  inventors  of  those  beautiful  patterns  of 
Etruscan  jewelry  which  are  produced  to-day  exactly  after 
the  ancient  model,  with  scarcely  a  variation,  and  indeed  but 
very  little  superior  in  style  of  workmanship. 

The  Etruscan  Collection,  founded  by  Gregory  XVI.  in 
1836,  is  composed  of  relics  excavated  from  1828  to  1836, 
and  also  many  recent  discoveries,  and  is  contained  in  twelve 
rooms.  In  these  rooms  we  find  beautiful  vases,  jewelry, 
domestic  implements,  and  warlike  weapons  of  this  people, 


ANCIENT    VS.    MODERN    WORKMANSHIP.  213 

who  floiii-ished  a  thousand  years  before  Christ.  I  can  only 
glance  at  a  few  of  the  most  notable  wonders  of  the  col- 
lection. 

In  one  room,  an  elegant  bronze  statue  in  full  armor,  with 
helmet  on  and  doublet  beneath  his  cuirass,  gives  you  a  real- 
istic, or  I  may  say  the  real,  figure  of  which  you  so  often  see 
the  counterfeit  presentment  in  Flaxman's  spirited  illustra- 
tions of  Hector,  Ajax,  or  Achilles,  and  the  workmanship 
and  details  of  the  figure  are  wonderful  in  their  finish. 
Hung  upon  the  wall  here  are  helmets,  shields,  handsomely 
wrought  mirrors,  with  wrought  and  engraved  designs  about 
their  rims,  upon  their  handles  of  fanciful  figure,  or  on  their 
backs.  Here  are  braziers,  with  fire  apparatus  that  is  as 
beautiful  in  design  as  can  be  made  at  the  present  day  :  the 
tongs  are  on  wheels,  and  are  wrought  out  so  as  to  terminate 
in  serpents'  heads  ;  the  handle  of  the  shovel  is  a  swan's 
neck,  and  the  fire-rake  is  wrought  into  the  shape  of  a  hu- 
man hand. 

I  could  hardly  bring  myself  to  believe  that  the  elegant 
collection  of  Etruscan  jewelry  that  was  exposed  in  a  glass 
case  was  worn  by  a  lady  three  thousand  years  ago,  for  our 
jewellers  to-day  scarcely  excel  it  in  workmanship,  and  cer- 
tainly not  in  design.  Here  rests  a  superb  wreath' of  oak- 
leaves,  which  to-day  would  form  an  elegant  crown  for  a 
lady's  head,  and  not  be  considered  rude  or  antique  in  work- 
manship ;  beside  it  rest  the  ear-rings,  heavy  and  massy,  in 
solid  gold,  which  were  worn  by  the  same  wearer,  and  her 
seal  rings  and  beautiful  bracelets,  also  in  rich  wrought  gold. 
These,  we  are  told,  were  taken  from  the  tomb  of  an  Etrus- 
can princess,  over  whom  was  inscribed  in  Etruscan  char- 
acters, "Me,  LARTmA,"  signifying,  "I,  the  Great  Lady." 
She  was  a  great  lady  three  thousand  years  ago,  and  they 
presumed  her  name  to  be  so  great  that  it  would  endure  for- 
ever, which  was  probably  the  reason  they  neglected  to 
record  it ;  so  that,  when  the  tomb-riflers  of  our  daj'  came  to 
find  what  time  had  spared  of  this  grand  dame,  all  that  was 


214  ANCIENT    ETRUSCAN    ART. 

known  of  her  was,  that  she  had  lived  and  wore  right  regal 
ornaments;   and  hero  they  are. 

That  her  "greatness"  was  honored  by  her  descendants 
was  evinced  by  the  fact  that  it  was  several  hundred  years 
before  any  other  Etrurian  of  sufficient  greatness  was  found 
fit  to  occupy  the  remaining  half  or  compartment  of  the 
tomb  in  wliich  she  rested,  her  compartment  being  walled  up 
with  spices  separating  it  from  the  other.  Finally  a  high- 
priest  of  Etruria  died,  and,  like  the  Great  Lady,  was  bui'ied 
with  all  his  ornaments  in  the  other  half  of  the  tomb.  And 
the  study  of  these  is  a  most  interesting  one  to  the  anti- 
quary. Here  are  his  armlets,  the  fillets  to  bind  the  plate 
of  gold  upon  his  head  ;  and  this,  and  the  plate  of  gold  for 
the  forehead,  which  is  here  also,  are  considered  by  some 
to  have  been  similar  to  the  head-dress  of  Aaron  —  an  im- 
pression heightened  by  his  priestly  breastplate,  reminding 
us  of  the  Urim  and  Thummim  breastplate  of  the  Jewish 
priests,  containing,  as  Milton  says,  — 

"  Those  oraculous  gems 
On  Aaron's  breast." 

Tn  this  room  is  the  bronze  couch  upon  which  this  digni- 
tary was  found  lying,  or  rather  where  the  ornaments  were 
found  beside  and  about  his  heap  of  mouldering  dust,  and 
the  great  incense-burner  that  was  found  by  his  side.  And 
the  incense  was  so  strong  that,  notwithstanding  it  had  been 
undisturbed  for  thirty  centuries,  its  aromatic  perfume,  when 
set  on  fire  by  the  finders,  was  so  powerful  as  to  drive  them 
all  from  the  room. 

The  beautiful  articles  of  jewelry  that  are  displayed  here 
really  seemed  more  like  an  exhibition  of  modern  novelties 
than  of  ancient  art.  There  were  different  styles  of  ear- 
rings, some  wrought  into  the  shape  of  a  ram's  head,  some 
into  that  of  a  bird  ;  chains,  necklaces  as  fine  and  delicate  as 
that  filigree  work  the  Genoese  turn  out  to-day,  and  which 
is  so  familiar  to  tourists;  elastic  gold  armlets  in  the  shape 


ANCIENT    VASES.  215 

of  serpents  ;  gold  myrtle  and  olive  wreaths,  rings,  and  a 
warrior's  breastplate,  magnificently  embossed. 

Of  the  warlike  and  other  bronze  implements  are  very 
many  which,  by  their  elegant  workmanship,  surprise  you 
as  much  as  does  the  gold  jewehy.  Splendid  candelabra, 
the  patterns  of  which  to-day  are  those  that  ornament  our 
drawing-rooms  ;  elegant  circular  shields,  some  of  them 
three  feet  in  diameter,  one  with  its  wooden  lining  and  the 
leather  straps  through  which  passed  the  warrior's  arm, still 
perfect,  though  it  may  have  failed  to  shield  him  faithfully, 
for  it  is  pierced  with  a  lance-thrust ;  battle-axes,  cuirasses, 
greaves,  and  helmets  identical  in  character  to  those  repre- 
sented upon  the  ancient  marble  statuary  we  have  been 
examining;  spears,  or  javelins ;  a  long,  curved  trumpet, 
like  those  we  so  frequently  see  in  bas-reliefs  of  carving  on 
monuments  and  arches  ;  the  strigil,  or  bronze  flesh-scraper 
used  in  the  baths,  —  the  instrument  that  the  statue  of  the 
athlete  in  the  Braccio  Nuovo  holds  in  its  hand ;  jugs, 
weights,  and  household  implements,  all  showing  the  perfec- 
tion of  civilization  in  their  workmanship. 

Among  the  other  rooms  in  this  collection  one  of  the  most 
interesting  is  that  containing  a  splendid  array  of  vases, 
excavated  from  the  ruins  or  sites  of  Etruscan  cities.  These 
are  the  original  patterns  from  which  copies  are  made  to-day, 
their  designs  and  workmanship  being  equal  to  the  best  of 
modern  production.  Black  vases  with  red  figures  upon 
them,  light  yellow  vases,  deep  red  with  black  figures,  and. 
various  in  party-colored  hues.  The  designs  upon  these 
elegant  vases  and  urns  form  also  a  splendid  collection  of 
designs  of  mythological  story,  interesting  to  the  classical 
student,  and  such  correct  representations  of  the  poetic  old 
fables  that  one  has  but  little  difficulty  in  recognizing  them. 
There  are  Achilles  and  Ajax,  Apollo  attended  by  the  Muses, 
Hercules  at  his  Labors,  the  Death  of  Hector,  the  Rape  of 
Proserpine,  and  scenes  from  the  Trojan  war —  a  bewildering 
collection.  The  other  rooms  contain  sarcophagi,  architec- 
tural fragments,  bas-reliefs,  frescos,  and  mosaics. 


216  THE    EGYPTIAN    MUSEUM. 

Ill  tlie  Egyptian  Museum,  the  few  antiquities  that  I  had 
opportunity  to  examine  made  Rome's  antiquities  to  seem 
modern.  Mummies  there  were  of  course,  for  no  Egyptian 
collection  is  complete  without  them ;  and  it  is  a  curious 
experience  to  be  looking-  at  the  preserved  corpse  of  a  priest 
of  Ammon  of  the  city  of  Thebes,  who  flourished  about 
eighteen  hundred  and  thirty  years  before  Christ,  or  at  a 
time  corresponding  with  that  in  which  the  patriarch  Jacob 
lived ;  and  you  wonder  if  the  black  marble  statue  of  a 
woman  jon  stand  before  can  really  be,  as  they  say  it  is,  that 
of  the  mother  of  Rameses  II.,  called  by  the  Greeks  Sesos- 
tris,  and  Avhose  son,  Menephtah,  we  find,  by  overhauling 
history,  was  overwhelmed  by  the  Red  Sea  when  pursuing 
the  Israelites. 

One  of  the  most  ancient  and  curious  objects  here  is  a 
scarabieus  in  jasper,  with  an  inscription,  m  eleven  lines, 
celebrating  the  marriage  of  Amenoph  III.,  bearing  a  date 
ascertained  to  be  no  less  than  1680  years  b.  c.  Then 
comes  an  ancient  necklace  engraved  with  the  name  of  Re- 
noubka,  an  ancient  king  who  flourished  in  the  time  of  the 
patriarch  Abraham.  Two  lions  in  black  granite,  each  side 
of  the  colossal  statue  of  Sesostris  above  mentioned,  were 
found  near  the  Pantheon  in  1448,  in  the  ruins  of  the  Baths 
of  Agrippa,  and  the  hieroglyphics  upon  their  base,  it  is 
said,  tell  that  they  date  from  the  time  of  King  Nectanebus 
I.,  one  of  the  builders  of  the  Temple  of  Philse,  on  its  granite 
rock  in  the  middle  of  the  Nile,  357  b.  c. 

Shall  we  ever  get  through  with  the  Vatican  ?  So  thought 
I,  as  with  aching  limbs,  a  crowded  brain,  fatigued  with 
ever  succeeding,  never  ending  novelties  and  wonders,  both- 
ered by  custodians  who  sometimes  were  so  fussy  as  to  wish 
to  inspect  and  even  forbid  my  making  notes  in  my  note- 
book, and  absolutel}'  forbidding  —  which  in  my  case  was 
perfectly  unnecessary — that  I  should  make  any  drawings. 
The  tourist  on  his  first  visit  to  Rome,  no  matter  how  thor- 
oughly he  resolves  to  see  this  great  collection,  will   come 


TEE    VATICAN    LIBEARY.  217 

away  leaving  portions  of  it  abpolutely  nnvisited,  and  others 
walked  tlirough  as  hurriedly  as  if  on  the  way  to  a  railroad 
station.  A  description  of  its  contents  would  fill  a  volume, 
yes,  a  dozen,  if  fairly  written  out. 

Now,  when  one  is  told  that  the  Vatican  Librar}'  contains 
over  fifty  thousand  books  and  twenty-five  thousand  manu- 
scripts ;  that  it  is  the  oldest  and  most  celebrated  library  in 
Europe  ;  that  it  contains,  notwithstanding  its  comparatively 
small  number  of  books,  some  of  the  most  priceless  of  liter- 
ary treasures  in  the  world,  such  as  a  manuscript  of  Virgil 
of  the  date  of  the  fourth  or  fifth  century  ;  a  manuscript  of 
Dante  in  the  handwriting  of  Boccaccio,  with  marginal  notes 
by  Petrarch  ;  a  manuscript  of  Tasso  ;  Henry  VII I. 's  love- 
lettei's  to  Anno  Boleyn  ;  the  Roman  manuscript  of  Terence 
in  the  ninth  century  ;  the'Bible  of  St.  Gregory,  &c.  ;  let  him 
not  anticipate  that  he  is  going  to  enjoy  the  same  freedom 
and  courtesy  that  ho  has  experienced  in  the  Bodleian  or 
British  Museum,  or  tliat  he  can  personally  inspect  all  these 
literary  treasures.  lie  is  fortunate  if  he  gets  inside  the 
rooms  and  sees  the  rich  caskets  in  which  they  are  inclosed  ; 
for  it  is  but  between  nine  and  twelve  o'clock  that  visitors 
are  admitted,  and  then  only  when  it  is  not  some  red-letter 
day  of  the  church  ;  consequently  they  are  closed  to  visitors 
for  over  two  hundred  days  of  the  year. 

If  you  are  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  admission,  you  see 
no  serried  rows  of  books  marshalled  upon  their  shelves,  and 
but  small  array  of  curious  manuscripts  to  enlist  your  wonder 
and  study.  You  enter  by  a  small,  modest  door,  and  are 
fairly  dazzled  by  the  grand  hall  that  spreads  out  before  you, 
two  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long,  twenty  feet  wide,  and 
thirty  feet  high,  lined  with  frescos.  Beautiful  pillars,  the 
friezes  and  vaults  covered  with  magnificent  pictures  in  fresco, 
decoration,  carving  and  gilding,  an  elegant  marble  pave- 
ment, gifts  from  sovereigns  to  popes,  great  malachite  vases, 
crosses,  fonts  of  Sevres  and  Berlin  porcelain,  bronzes,  and 
rare  articles  of  virtu  —  you  are  bewildered  with  a  plethora 


218  LITERARY    WEALTH. 

of  most  gorg:cous  decoration  and  splendor  which  seems  to 
you  but  a  g-ilded  dream  when  you  recall  it  afterwards. 

Library  I  Books  !  Why,  we  forgot  all  that  part  of  it. 
Why  didn't  we  call  for  books  or  manuscripts  ?  Well,  the 
amount  of  red  tape,  blanks  to  bo  filled  out,  writing's  to  bo 
sent,  and  orders  to  bo  obtained  from  .high  officials,  before 
such  privilege  can  be  obtained,  is  such  that  few  attempt  it. 
Then,  again,  you  rarely  —  if  you  are  fortunate  enough  to 
get  inside  —  have  more  than  opportunity  to  look  at  the 
rooms  and  decoration  ere  you  are  obliged  to  leave. 

To  be  sure,  you  are  told  that  the  books  and  manuscripts 
are  in  the  carved  and  gilded  presses  and  cases  that  we 
passed  in  our  whirl  of  wonderment ;  but,  as  far  as  the  rich 
collection  of  literature  being  of  any  advantage  to  the  world, 
—  it  is  a  miser's  treasure  in  the  earth,  a  light  under  a 
bushel,  in  the  way  it  is  now  managed,  with  every  j^ossible 
obstacle  placed  in  the  way  of  the  scholar,  student,  or 
visitor. 

Wey,  in  speaking  of  the  manuscripts  of  the  Vatican  Libra- 
ry, says  :  "  There  are  eighteen  Slave  manuscripts,  ten  from 
China,  twenty-two  from  India,  thirteen  from  Armenia,  two 
from  the  old  land  of  the  Iberians,  eighty  in  Coptic,  and  one 
from  Samaria,  seventy-one  from  Ethiopia,  five  hundred  and 
ninety  of  Hebrew  origin,  and  four  hundred  and  fifty-nine  of 
Syrian,  sixty-four  from  Turkey,  seven  hundred  and  eightj-- 
seven  from  Arabia,  and  sixty-five  from  Persia,  illustrated 
with  fine  miniatures." 

The  whole  collection  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  Oriental  manu- 
scripts is  twenty-three  thousand  five  hundred  and  eighty  — 
the  finest  in  the  world  ;  but  these  fusty,  musty  old  parch- 
ments, many  of  them,  are  only  intelligible  to  scholars  of 
great  erudition,  and  only  accessible  through  a  labyrinth  of 
circumlocution. 

No  visitor  thinks  of  leaving  the  Vatican  without  having 
visited  the  Gallery  of  Pictures,  or  of  visiting  that  gallery 
without    having    seen     Raphael's    great    masterpiece.    The 


raph.vel's  masterpiece.  219 

Transfiguration,  finished  immediately  before  his  death,  and 
beneath  which  his  body  lay  in  state  before  his  funeral.  The 
subject  is  so  familiar  as  not  to  require  description  ;  it  has 
been  criticised  and  described  till  even  those  who  have  never 
seen  it  almost  know  it  by  heart.  Our  Saviour,  rising  in  the 
midst  of  a  glorious  transparent  light,  with  the  figures  of 
Moses  and  Elijah  on  either  side  of  him  ;  the  three  disciples 
fallen  terror-  stricken  upon  the  ground  ;  and  below,  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  picture,  the  group  of  figures  iu  which  the 
three  principal  ones  —  the  kneeling  woman,  and  the  epileptic 
boy  in  the  armt;  of  his  father  —  are  all  grand  pieces  of  compo- 
sition, and  the  h<;ads  and  expressions  of  the  surrounding 
groups  all  studies  of  great  artistic  beauty.  The  whole 
painting  is  distinguished  bj^  its  grace  of  grouping,  and,  if 
the  expression  may  be  allowed,  its  dramatic  points  and  the 
forcible  tableau-like  position  into  which  the  groups  seem  to 
have  been  thrown,  in  order,  seemingly,  to  make  the  greatest 
possible  impression  upon  the  spectator.  Raphael  is  said  to 
have  received  a  sum  equivalent  to  three  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  for  painting  this  picture, — none  too  much,  as  all 
will  agree  who  look  upon  it.  Whether  it  is  the  "  greatest 
painting  in  the  world  "  or  not,  I  Avill  not  venture  an  opinion, 
but  that  it  is  a  wonderful  creation  of  art,  even  the  inexpe- 
rienced will  admit  in  looking  upon  the  beautiful  grouping 
and  coloring,  the  life-like  expression  of  the  figures,  and  the 
general  harmony  of  the  whole  grand  tableau  that  is  so 
^vividly  displayed,  and  your  average  tourist  who  does  Rome 
and  the  Vatican  must  put  it  down  in  his  note-book  as  one 
of  the  sights  not  to  be  missed. 

From  this  grand  creation  the  visitor  turns  to  others,  such 
as  Domenichino's  Communion  of  St.  Jerome,  a  picture  which 
has  a  story,  which  is  this  :  The  monks  of  the  monastery 
of  Ara  Coeli  employed  the  artist  to  paint  it,  but  on  its  com- 
pletion had  a  quarrel  with  him,  and  only  paid  him  about 
fifty  Roman  scudi  —  a  little  more  than  fifty  dollars  of  our 
money  —  for    the   picture,   and  even  then   locked   it  up  in 


220  THE  GALLERY  OF  VASES. 

some  dark,  out-of-the-way  closet,  and  refused  to  place  it  on 
their  walls. 

They  afterwards  called  in  Poussin  to  paint  an  altar-piece 
for  their  church.  Upon  his  asking  for  canvas,  the  holy 
brothers  broug-ht  out  tliis  picture,  and  desired  him  to  paint 
over  that.  Poussin,  astonished,  refused  to  destroy  so  beau- 
tiful a  painting,  gave  up  his  commission,  and  making  known 
to  the  proper  authorities  tlie  existence  of  the  picture,  it  was 
afterwards  placed  in  another  church,  and  finally  removed  to 
this  place,  where  it  is  one  of  the  principal  attractions. 

The  old  saint  is  represented  as  having  been  brought,  half 
naked,  emaciated,  and  dying,  to  the  magnificent  gate  of  a 
monaster^',  where  two  priests  in  superb  ecclesiastical  cos- 
tume —  in  striking  contrast  to  his  miserable  condition  — 
are  about  administering  to  him  the  sacrament.  The  attenu- 
ated and  emaciated  figure  of  the  saint,  as  he  lies  feebly 
upon  the  monastery  step,  is  wonderfully  well  done,  —  so 
true  to  life  as  to  be  a  perfect  counterfeit ;  the  noble,  digni- 
fied figure  of  the  priest,  the  rich  folds  of  his  robe,  and  the 
head  of  one  of  the  figures  bending  over  the  saint,  —  all 
excite  admiration  from  the  most  casual  observer. 

When  you  leave  the  Hall  of  the  Chariot,  already  de- 
scribed, yqu  come  to  a  long  corridor,  three  hundred  feet  in 
length,  known  as  the  Gallery  of  Vases  and  Candelabra.  It 
is  divided  into  six  sections  by  beautiful  Doric  marble  col- 
umns of  different  colors,  and  each  of  the  sections  contains 
specimens  of  ancient  vases,  sarcophagi,  cups,  mosaics,  and 
statues. 

The  great  candelabra  in  this  hall  are  wonders  of  antique 
art.  They  are  of  white  marble,  beautifully  sculptured,  and 
upon  their  bases  are  wrought  spirited  bas-reliefs  of  mytho- 
logical story.  One,  found  near  the  Gardens  of  Sallust,  has 
a  representation  of  Hercules  carrying  off  the  tripod  of 
Delphi,  Apollo  and  an  attendant,  &c.  Another  has  a  rep- 
resentation on  its  base  of  Apollo  flaying  Marsyas  ;  and 
another  that  of  Silenus  and  Bacchante,  dancing  fauns,  &c. 


NOTABLE  AKT  TEEASUEES.  221 

These  great  candelabra,  eight  in  number,  dug  out  from  the 
ruins  of  the  temples  of  old  Rome,  have  blazed  with  the  flame 
at  sacrifice,  feast,  and  game,  when  the  smoke  went  up  from 
heathen  altars  to  the  gods  ;  and  yet,  despite  this,  and  even 
despite  the  pagan  emblems  that  still  adorn  them,  some  of 
them,  since  their  discovery,  have  done  duty  in  Christian 
churches. 

We  can  only  glance  at  a  few  of  the  most  notable  treas- 
ures of  this  section  of  the  great  world  of  wonders  we  have 
been  so  long  traversing.  Near  the  entrance  of  the  first 
division  of  the  gallery  are  two  trunks  of  trees  in  white 
marble,  and  upon  the  branches  of  one  a  nest  containing  as 
nestlings  five  little  sculptured  cupids.  In  this  hall  we  saw 
a  statue  of  the  celebrated  Diana  of  Ephesus,  larger  than 
life,  in  the  costume  in  which  she  was  said  to  have  been 
worshipped  in  the  temple  of  Diana  of  Ephesus.  •  This  costume 
is  a  sort  of  tight-fitting  swathing,  ornamented  with  figures 
of  sphinxes,  lions,  bulls,  and  stags'  heads.  Her  breasts, 
sixteen  in  number,  are  said  to  t3^pify  the  sixteen  cubits  of 
the  Nile's  rising,  and  a  necklace  of  acorns  and  mj-stic  signs 
adorns  the  neck  of  this  remarkable  figure,  which  was  found 
at  Hadrian's  Villa. 

I  have  lingered  about  and  around  so  many  specimens  of 
sarcophagi  in  the  different  halls  of  the  Vatican  that  I  almost 
hesitate  to  attempt  descriptions  of  any  in  this  hall,  where  I 
was  surprised  to  find  several  very  beautiful  ones  not  at  all 
referred  to  in  my  guide-book.  These  ancient  sarcophagi 
give  you  the  old  mythological  stories  in  bas-reliefs  upon 
their  sides  and  lids,  which  it  is  often  very  interesting  to 
trace  out.  A  splendid  one  in  this  gallery  bears  upon  its 
sides  the  sculptured  representation  of  Apollo  and  Diana 
destroying  with  their  deadly  arrows  the  family  of  Niobe. 
The  central  figures  of  the  group  are  an  old  man  and  woman 
vainly  trying  to  save  the  children  from  the  fatal  shafts, 
while  the  various  attitudes  of  the  figures,  in  fear,  suppli- 
cation, and  agony,  are  finely  represented  by  the  ancient 
sculptor. 


222  THE    HALL    OF    MAPS, 

Tlio  lid  of  this  great  casket  has  on  its  border,  very  appro- 
printely,  a  represeiitatioa  of  dead  bodies.  Upon  tlie  top  of 
this  sarcophagus  stood  two  exquisite  vases  of  rose-colored 
alabaster,  and  another  of  translucent  marble  or  alabaster, 
beautifully  marked  with  concentric  rings.  The  life-size 
figure  of  tlie  Lacedtemonian  virgin  racer,  with  bared  bosom 
and  legs  and  siiort  dress  for  the  race,  is  a  fine  piece  of 
work,  as  is  also  the  sarcophagus  representing  the  carrying 
off  of  the  two  daughters  of  King  Leucippus  by  Castor  and 
Pollux,  and  the  huge  bowl  or  crater  with  the  bas-reliefs 
representing  the  vintage  by  fauns,  cupids,  and  old  Silenus  ; 
and  gems  of  vases  in  maible,  jasper,  polished  porphyry,  red 
granite,  or  black  basalt,  standing  on  antique  altars,  bearing 
inscriptions  no  doubt  of  interest  to  the  scholar  or  archaeolo- 
gist, but  which  we  had  not  the  time  to  stop  and  trace  out 
or  translate. 

The  visitor  who  has  enjoyed  by  frequent  visits  the  wealth 
of  art  and  beauty  already  described,  will  perhaps  pass 
through  what  is  known  as  the  great  Gallery  of  Maps  some- 
what hastily,  although  it  is  another  one  of  those  gorgeously 
decorated  halls  with  a  beautiful  perspective.  The  Gallery 
of  Maps  is  an  immense  hall,  nearly  live  hundred  feet  in 
length,  lighted  by  thirty-four  windows,  those  on  one  side 
looking  into  the  Court  of  Belvedere,  and  the  other  into  the 
Vatican  Gardens  ;  and  all  the  view  we  had  of  the  gardens 
was  from  the  windows,  for  we  were  obliged  in  this  instance, 
for  lack  of  time,  to  give  Nature  the  go-by  for  Art.  In  the 
spaces  between  the  windows  on  either  side  are  enormous 
maps  of  the  provinces,  possessions,  and  cities  of  Italy  in 
1581,  and  they  are  curious  specimens  of  the  geographical 
knowledge  of  those  times.  Between  the  windows  are  also 
marble  benches  and  a  row  of  seventy-two  Hermes,  or 
ancient  busts  of  orators,  poets,  fauns,  &c.,  upon  high 
pedestals. 

The  vault  of  this  grand  apartment  is  an  arch  of  splendor  in 
its  rich  decoration  of  statuettes,  carving,  gilding,  coffer  and 


THE    HALL    OF    TAPESTRIES.  223 

panel  work,  and  fresco  painting.  The  picture  in -the  middle 
vault  represents  our  Saviour  intrusting  the  keys  and  the 
flock  to  St.  Peter.  The  walls  around  the  windows  and 
maps  are  beautifully  decorated  with  festoons,  wreaths,  ara- 
besques, and  grotesque  allegorical  ornamentation.  The 
contents  of  the  gallery,  however,  arc  of  course  much  less 
interesting  than  those  of  others,  and  tourists  whose  time  is 
limited  seldom  give  it  more  than  a  mere  cursory  examination, 
or  none  at  all. 

We  must  now  enter  the  Gallery  of  the  Arazzi  or  Tapestries, 
called  so  from  the  fact  that  these  wondrous  hangings  were 
made  at  Arras,  in  Flanders.  Shakspeare,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, calls  tapestry  hangings  arras  in  two  familiar  plays  : 
in  "  Ilamlet,"  where  Polonius  is  described  as  concealing 
himself  behind  the  "arras  "  ;  and  in  "King  John,"  where 
Hubert  says  to  the  attendants  who  are  with  him  to  assist 
in  putting  out  young  Arthur's  eyes,  "  Heat  me  these  irons 
hot ;   and  look  thou  stand  within  the  arras,"  &c. 

The  tapestries  have  a  singular  history,  which  is  told  at 
length  in  the  guide-books,  of  their  being  stolen  iu  152Y, 
restored  in  1554,  carried  away  again  in  1T9S,  and  recovered 
again  in  1808.  They  were  skilfully  wrought  in  wool,  silk, 
and  gold,  and  contain  so  much  of  the  latter  that  on  one 
occasion  when  they  were  recovered,  the  Hebrew  purchasers 
were  just  commencing  to  burn  them  for  the  purpose  of  melt- 
ing out  the  gold  contained  in  the  embroidery.  The  paint- 
ings from  which  they  were  copied,  as  is  well  known,  were 
the  celebrated  und  familiar  cartoons  of  Eaphael.  The  tap- 
estries were  woven  in  1516  to  decorate  the  walls  of  the 
Sistine  Chapel  on  festival  days,  and  are  divided  into  two 
parts  :  those  of  the  old  school,  or  first  series,  being  those  from 
the  hand  of  Raphael  himself;  and  the  second  series,  or  new 
school,  executed  after  his  death  by  his  Italian  and  Flemish 
pupils.  There  are  twenty-two  in  all ;  those  of  Raphael, 
such  as  The  Lame  Man  Healed  by  Peter  and  John,  Miracu- 
lous  Draught    of    Fishes,  &c.,   are   too   familiar  to  require 


224  GREAT    WORKS    BY    RAPHAEL. 

description,  wliilc  the  others  represent  such  scenes  as  The 
Stoning  of  Stephen,  Slaughter  of  the  Innocents,  and  Ado- 
ration of  the  Shepherds.  Some  that  have  been  restored  are 
quite  fresh  and  beautifvd  in  their  colors  and  tints,  and  others 
are  sadly  faded  by  time  and  rough  usage. 

All  too  short  was  our  stay  in  those  beautiful  galleries  that 
run  arnuiid  tln-ee  sides  of  an  open  space,  and  are  called  the 
Luf/r/ie  and  Sianze  of  Raphael,  with  their  superbly  decorated 
ceilings  that  gave  me  the  back-ache  from  continued  looking 
upwards  for  an  hour  or  two,  for  the  thirteen  sections  of  the 
vaulting  contain  forty-eight  beautiful  representations  of 
scenes  from  the  Old  Testament  and  four  from  the  New.  No 
wonder  this  superb  pictorial  display  is  called  "  Raphael's 
Bible,"  for  you  may  read,  in  those  illustrations,  parts  of  the 
Old  Testament  by  the  graphic  and  gracefully  presented  pic- 
torial representations  of  its  most  familiar  scenes  :  commen- 
cing with  the  creation  of  light,  separation  of  light  from  dark- 
ness ;  then  the  creation  of  the  sun  and  moon,  creation  of 
Eve  ;  Deluge,  Lot's  flight,  Joseph  sold  by  his  brethren  ;  and 
continuing  with  Biblical  history  till  we  come  to  the  Israel- 
ites crossing  Jordan,  building  of  Solomon's  Temple,  &c. 
The  four  scenes  from  the  New  Testament  are  the  Adoration, 
the  Wise  Men  of  the  East,  Baptism  of  Christ,  and  Last 
Supper. 

The  "  Stanzo  "  of  Raphael  also  are  not  only  richly  dec- 
orated on  the  ceilings,  but  upon  the  sides  of  the  different 
rooms  —  especially  in  those  known  as  the  Stanza  clella 
Secjnatura  and  the  Stanza  d' Eliodoro,  which  were  painted  by 
Raphael  himself  unaided  —  are  numerous  beautiful  fresco 
pictures  of  allegorical  figures,  Bible  history,  and  m^'^thologi- 
cal  subjects. 

Among  the  most  remarkable  of  these  is  the  one  familiar 
from  its  reproduction  in  engravings.  The  School  of  Athens, 
with  its  fifty-two  figures  representing  ancient  philosophers 
and  scholars,  such  as  Plato,  Aristotle,  Socrates,  and  Pythago- 
ras, all  the  figures  being  most  gi'acefully  and  naturally  posed 


GRAND    PICTORIAL    EFFECTS.  225 

and  placed  without  the  least  appearance  of  crowding.  The 
Expulsion  of  Ilcliodorus  from  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  is 
another  wondrous  work  of  art  that  fairly  stirs  the  blood 
like  a  martial  poem  as  you  look  upon  it.  Its  beautiful  col- 
oring, vigor  of  expression,  and  dramatic  grouping  are  per- 
fect, and  it  may  justly  be  said  to  be  one  of  the  artist's 
greatest  triumphs. 

We  pass  by  the  Mass  of  Bolsena,  Attila  kept  back  from 
Eome,  to  halt  at  another  painting  of  great  beauty,  and  in 
which  the  different  effects  of  light  have  been  marvellously 
well  managed  —  The  Deliverance  of  Peter  from  his  Prison 
by  the  Angel.  The  angel  is  depicted  as  arousing  Peter, 
and  the  effulgent  light  which  surrounds  him  seems  to  make 
the  metal  armor  of  the  sleeping  soldiers  fairly  glitter  in 
its  beams,  while  from  the  other  side  of  a  grated  window 
comes  the  light  from  the  red  glare  of  torches,  which  shines 
upon  another  group  of  soldiers,  with  singularly  natural 
effect  ;  and  still  another  effect  of  light  is  introduced  in  a 
representation  of  that  from  the  moon,  which  is  seen  shining 
in  the  distance,  —  the  whole  forming  one  of  the  most  admi- 
rably effective  and  wonderfully  artistic  managements  of  light 
in  pictorial  effect  that  I  have  ever  looked  upon. 

The  Oath  of  Leo  III.,  Coronation  of  Charlemagne,  and  on 
one  long  wall  a  spirited  and  vigorous  battle-scene  of  Con- 
stantino against  Maxentius,  with  men  and  horses,  banners 
and  weapons  intermingled  in  furious  conflict,  are  among  the 
other  attractions  in  this  series  of  halls.  This  latter  picture 
is  said  to  be  the  largest  historical  subject  ever  painted.  It 
was  designed  by  Raphael  and  painted  by  Giulio  Romano,  and 
its  representation  is  distinguished  for  vigorous  action  and 
warlike  energy. 

The  reader  will  be  spared  a  description  of  that  part  of 
the  Vatican  appropriated  as  the  papal  residence,  or  of  an 
audience  with  Pius  IX.,  as  bis  Holiness  was  suffering  from 
indisposition  during  most  of  the  time  occupied  by  the 
author's  visit,  and  he  was,  therefore,  obliged  to  leave  Rome 
15 


226  OBSTACLES    TO    ENJOYMENT. 

without  having  seen  the  Pope,  —  a  circumstance  which,  al- 
thoiigli  somewhat  to  be  reg-retted,  there  is  some  compensa- 
tion for  in  the  reflection  that  it  gave  other  tourists  who  had 
been  there,  whom  he  afterwards  met,  so  much  satisfaction 
to  know  that  th(^y  had  enjoyed  that  privilege  "  when  they 
were  in  Rome  ;  "  and  "  0,"  they  "  wouldn't  have  missed 
it  for  anything;  "  and  "  You  ought  to  have  seen  him  if  you 
had  not  seen  anything  else  there  ;  "  and  "  You  missed  one 
of  the  greatest  things  in  Europe."  This  may  be  all  true, 
but  aching  limbs  and  a  fatigued  brain  indicated  to  me  too 
well  the  hopeless  endeavor  to  put  what  ought  to  occupy 
months  of  sight-seeing  into  a  few  weeks,  as  does  the  effort 
to  write  even  the  results  of  it  in  the  comparatively  few 
pages  necessary  to  leave  space  for  other  scenes  and  expe- 
riences, and  avoid  the  risk  of  becoming  tedious. 

As  one  hardly  knows  how  or  where  to  begin  to  inspect 
the  treasures  of  the  Vatican,  so  when  one  gets  fairly  within 
its  walls,  unless  he  has  abundance  of  time  at  command,  he 
is  puzzled  as  to  what  portion  to  race  through  or  what  to 
leave  unvisited.  But,  even  with  sufficient  time  for  frequent 
visits,  comfortable  and  careful  examination,  or  the  enjoy- 
ment one  would  desire,  is  abridged  by  the  manner  in  which 
time  is  apportioned  for  the  admission  of  visitors  to  different 
portions  of  the  collection. 

Thus  the  visitor,  who  may  perhaps  have  seen  all  but  what 
will  require  an  hour's  inspection  in  a  certain  gallery,  comes 
next  day  to  find  that  portion  is  closed  for  that  day,  and  only 
open  once  or  twice  a  week  ;  or,  having  arrived  at  the  end 
of  a  large  hall  after  a  wearisome  tramp,  instead  of  being  per- 
mitted to  pass  aci'oss  a  vestibule  into  the  next  succeeding 
museum,  finds  his  further  progress  stopped  by  an  inexorable 
iron  gate  or  grating,  and  is  forced  to  retrace  his  steps, 
descend  and  go  around  the  building  to  another  entrance, 
thereby  losing  from  half  to  three-quarters  of  an  hour  in 
reaching  it,  only  to  find  that  he  has  but  an  hour  left  of 
the  time  allotted  for  the  gallery  to  be  open,  and  that  will  be 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    PREPARATION, 


007 


abridged  by  the  attendants  at  least  one  quarter,  many  of 
whom  seem  determined  that  intrusive  foreigners  shall  stay 
not  a  moment  longer  in  these  sacred  preciucts  than  regula- 
tions allow. 

Previous  preparation  adds  so  much  to  the  enjoyment  of  a 
visit  to  this  wonderful  museum,  that  too  much  cannot  be 
said  in  its  favor  ;  and  the  American  intending  to  visit  Rome, 
who  has  not,  as  he  may  think,  had  the  advantages  of  such 
education,  to  enable  him  to  enjoy  it  to  its  fullest  extent, 
should  by  no  means  neglect  even  the  briefest  opportunities 
of  preparation  in  the  way  of  historical  reading.  The  leisure 
hours  of  a  single  season  devoted  to  Roman  history  and 
mythology  will  be  found  to  add  immensely  to  one's  enjoy- 
ment ;  indeed,  the  very  stories  of  our  youth  become  of  ser- 
vice to  us  in  a  visit  to  old  Rome,  and  the  smallest  bits  of 
information  respecting  its  history,  or  legends  that  have  been 
laid  away  in  the  storehouse  of  memory,  are  found  to  be  of 
service. 

A  thoroughly  ignorant  man  visiting  such  a  collection  as 
that  of  the  Vatican  in  Rome,  is  like  a  deaf  person  at  a 
concert  of  music  ;  he  sees  the  motions  of  tiie  ])erformers, 
and,  although  his  friends  may  communicate  to  him  the  pur- 
pose for  which  the  motions  are  made,  he  can  have  no  perfect 
idea  of  their  effect,  and  certainly  but  little  enjoyment  or 
appreciation  of  the  real  merits  of  the  music. 

The  collection  at  the  Vatican  is  so  vast  and  so  varied  that 
one  must  be  dull  indeed,  and  have  improved  but  few  of  the 
natural  advantages  possessed  by  all  men,  not  to  find  some 
department  and  many  objects  that  will  arouse  his  interest, 
or  enlist  his  attention.  The  time  devoted  to  it  by  tourists 
only  allows  a  passing  glance  at  a  few  of  the  most  prominent 
objects  in  the  principal  apartments.  And  not  only  is  it  the 
historical  antiquities  and  wondrous  works  of  ancient  art  which 
the  visitor  encounters  that  excite  his  interest,  but  the  archi- 
tectural beauties  and  superb  decorations  of  the  halls  them- 
selves,  wherein   the   old  popes  have  sought  to  perpetuate 


228  THE    COLOSSEUM. 

their  names  as  patrons  of  the  arts,  and  where  successive 
artists  have  contended  with  each  other  for  supremacy  in 
conception,  desig'a,  and  execution. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  Colosseum  !  That  one  great  central  figure  in  all  imagi- 
nations of  ancient  Rome,  and,  in  fact,  one  that  always  rose 
in  fancy's  pictures  when  we  wondered  if  we  should  ever 
visit  the  old  city.  That  sturdy  enduring  monument  of  the 
past,  that  has  witnessed  the  triumphs  and  excesses  of  suc- 
cessive tyrants,  echoed  to  the  shouts  of  Rome's  populace  in 
her  palmiest  days  ;  whose  arena  has  been  soaked  with  the 
blood  of  barbarian  gladiators  and  Christian  martyrs  ;  whose 
walls  have  withstood  the  assaults  of  vandal  conquerors,  the 
inexorable  tooth  of  time,  and,  more  than  all  these,  the  van- 
dal-like assaults  of  modern  Romans  themselves  1 

The  Colosseum  !  I  actually  felt  a  nervous  thrill  when  we 
started  off  to  visit  this  mute  link  between  to-day  and  distant 
centuries.  It  was  a  pilgrimage  to  tell  off  one  of  the  great 
beads  strung  on  time's  rosary,  and  fitting  it  was  that  we 
should  again  stroll,  on  our  way  to  it,  through  the  Roman 
Forum,  where  all  around,  above,  each  side,  and  under 
foot,  were  the  remains  and  the  very  dust  of  the  mighty 
power  that  made  such  an  indelible  impression  upon  the 
history  of  the  world  as  to  be  felt  for  centuries  after  it  had 
ceased  to  exist. 

The  successive  destructions  by  fire  and  invasion  that  threw 
down  hut,  palace,  and  temple,  and  the  architectural  monu- 
ments which  each  ambitious  emperor  erected  to  perpetuate 
the  glory  of  his  name,  some  upon  the  very  ruins  of  those  of 
his  predecessor,  give  us  a  Rome  of  to-day  eighteen  feet  or 


RELICS    OF    THE    PAST.  229 

more  above  the  Rome  of  the  Caesars,  and  we  walk  over  a 
soil  in  which  it  is  impossible  to  dig  in  any  direction  to  the 
depth  of  a  few  feet  without  striking  relics  of  the  past  which 
lie  in  regular  historic  strata,  one  above  the  other. 

In  the  Roman  Forum,  and  on  the  way  to  the  Colosseum  ! 
the  very  Forum  that  knew  Cato  and  Julius  Cassar,  and  rung 
with  Cicero's  orations  ;  where  Virginius  slew  his  daughter, 
and  where  Scipio  discomfited  his  accuser  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  day  he  had  overcome  Hannibal  ;  where  the  Roman 
populace  had  so  often  been  swayed  by  the  winning  promises 
and  the  largesses  of  emperors,  stirred  and  aroused  by  the 
magic  of  eloquence,  or  with  ungrateful  or  avenging  daggers 
struck  at  their  best  friends  or  bloodiest  tyrants  ;  and  through 
which  they  had  thronged  in  eager  crowds  to  the  great  white 
marble  circus,  with  its  rings  of  arches  crowned  with  a 
purple  canopy,  to  witness  gladiatorial  or  wild-beast  com- 
bats ! 

And  what  do  we  see  as  we  pass  along  the  route  through 
this  brief  and  narrow  space,  so  crammed  with  historic 
events  ?  The  two  great  shattered  arches,  furrowed,  seamed, 
and  crumbling  as  beneath  the  veritable  gigantic  teeth  of 
Chronos  ;  here  and  there  a  group  of  pillars,  graceful  in  their 
loneliness,  beautiful  even  in  their  ruin,  fragments  left,  as  it 
were,  by  the  destroyer  to  show  how  grand  and  beautiful  was 
that  he  had  overcome.  As  we  approach  the  Arch  of  Con- 
stantino, the  grand  oval  with  its  shattered  side  bursts  upon 
the  view,  with  its  series  of  arches  and  its  grand  circular  sweep 
of  pillars,  column,  and  cornice,  recognized  at  once  as  an  old 
familiar  friend  ;  the  brown  travertine,  the  shattered  and 
crumbling  edges  of  the  topmost  walls,  and  the  waving  weeds 
and  flowers  here  and  there  high  wp  among  the  crumbling 
masonry  that  writers  and  poets  tell  of,  —  all  were  there. 

We  descended  one  of  the  roadways  which  are  on  each 
side,  for  it  will  be  remembered  that  this  great  amphitheatre 
was  built  in  a  hollow  on  the  site  of  the  great  lake  in  the 
gardens   of   Nero's   "  Golden   House  ;  "    and  it  is  said  by 


230  THE    GIANT    OF    ROMAN    RUINS. 

some  authorities  that  when  the  Emperor  Vespasian  drained 
tlie  hike  for  a  site  for  his  amphitheatre,  he  at  the  same  time 
pulled  down  Nero's  Palace.  We  pass  the  ruins  of  the 
Palaces  of  the  Cassars,  as  they  are  called,  above  which, 
until  the  excavations  made  by  Louis  Napoleon,  bloomed  a 
flourishing  vineyard.  The  appearance  of  the  eai'th  and 
stone  and  fragments  here  is  as  if  the  roadway  and  sur- 
roundings were  of  ground-up,  burned  bread  ;  a  dried  sponge 
—  scoria  —  exhausted  earth  that  had  been  palace-wall  and 
peasant's  hut  and  street  pavement,  crushed,  smashed,  burned, 
buried,  excavated,  time-worn,  till  the  very  life  of  the  very 
stone  was  sucked  out  and  only  the  husk  left  behind. 

But  we  are  close  upon  the  Colosseum,  well  named  by  the 
venerable  Bede,  for  it  is  a  colossus  among  the  other  ruins  ;  and 
even  now,  after  having  been  degraded  to  be  fortress,  factory, 
and  stone  quarry,  and  plundered  by  ancient  vandals  who 
Avrenched  ofi'  its  marble  sheathing  for  the  metal  bolts  in  the 
wall,  and  by  modern  desecrators  who  carried  away  its  solid 
blocks  of  stone  to  build  four  palaces,  —  despite  all  the  injury 
wrought  by  ancient  spoiler  and  modern  plunderer,  it  is  still 
impressive  from  the  symmetry  and  grandeur  of  its  propor- 
tions ;  while  the  interior  arrangements,  which  can  plainly  be 
traced,  for  the  accommodation  of  more  than  eiglity  thousand 
spectators,  were  so  perfect  as  to  elicit  to-day  the  admiration 
of  modern  architects. 

The  Colosseum  was  one  of  those  sights  that  looked,  as  we 
approached  it,  just  as  I  had  fancied  in  my  imagination  it 
would.  There  were  the  rings  or  open  arcades  of  regular 
arches,  one  above  the  other,  with  the  pillars  between,  — 
three  orders  of  architecture  being  seen  in  its  four  stories. 
There  before  it  was  the  brown  hillock  or  cone,  all  that  re- 
mained of  the  great  fountain  that  in  the  days  of  Rome's 
splendor  sent  its  sparkling  waters  into  the  air  to  fall  back 
into  the  great  marble  basin  round  which  the  gladiators 
gathered  after  the  combat  or  games  to  wash  and  receive  con- 
gratulations from  patrons,  master,  or  friends.      The  rich  and 


THE    COLOSSEUM   DESCRIBED.  231 

warm  brown  tint  of  the  great  ruin  beneath  the  blue  of  the 
Italian  sky,  and  surrounded  by  the  verdure  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, is  all  in  perfect  harmony  of  coloring,  makhig  a  picture 
grateful  to  the  eye. 

The  shape  of  the  Colosseum,  a  grand  ellipse  resting  on 
arches,  is  familiar  to  all  readers.  There  were  eighty  of  these 
open  arches  in  the  three  lower  stories  in  the  whole  circum- 
ference of  the  building,  each  arch  being  fourteen  feet  and 
six  inches  in  width,  except  at  the  extremities  of  the  diame- 
ters of  the  ellipse,  where  they  are  two  feet  wider.  Be- 
tween all  the  arches  are  columns,  or  ivere  columns,  through- 
out the  whole  circumference,  and  each  successive  ring  or 
tier  of  arches  and  columns  was  of  a  different  order  of  archi- 
tecture :  the  lowest  plain  Doric,  the  next  above  Ionic,  and 
the  third  Corinthian.  Above  these,  if  the  reader  will  look 
at  pictures  of  the  Colosseum,  he  will  observe  was  another 
circular  tier,  consisting  of  a  wall  without  open  arches,  but 
decorated  with  Corinthian  pilasters,  and  pierced  with  win- 
dows for  light  and  ventilation.  Above  this  was  a  great 
entablature  in  which  are  the  holes  which  held  the  masts 
supporting  the  great  awning  or  curtain  that  shaded  the 
audience  from  the  sun,  known  as  the  velarium. 

We  may  get  some  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  structure 
from  the  fact  that  all  that  now  remains  in  any  degree  entire 
is  only  three-eighths  of  the  whole  circumference.  The  whole 
structure  covered  about  six  acres  of  ground.  The  total 
height  was  one  hundred  and  fifty-seven  feet,  the  different 
stories  of  arches  being  respectively  thirty,  thirty-eight, 
thirty-eight,  and  forty-four  feet  high,  which,  added  to  the 
entablature,  makes  the  height  above  mentioned,  although 
some  authorities  place  the  total  height  at  one  hundred  and 
ninety  feet.  A  few  more  figures  of  dimensions  may  be 
suggestive  :  for  instance,  that  you  must  walk  one  third  of  a 
mile  to  accomplish  its  circumference,  and  the  space  occupied 
by  the  arena  is  two  hundred  and  seventy-eight  feet  long  by 
one  hundred  and  seventy-seven  in  width. 


232  KOMAX  VANDALISM. 

We  descended  towards  this  great  monument  of  the  past, 
and  halted  at  its  lower  arches  to  look  up  at  the  huge  blocks 
of  travertine,  of  which  it  was  built,  some  of'  them  five  ieet 
high  and  eight  or  ten  feet  long  ;  and  the  holes  where  many 
were  held  together  by  iron  clamps,  or  where  the  marble 
sheathing  was  fastened  to  them,  are  still  visible.  There  are 
also  discoverable  upon  these  blocks  the  builders'  signs  and 
marks,  indications  of  their  having  been  hewn,  squared,  and 
numbered  before  being  raised  to  their  position.  This  per- 
fectly quarried  stone  was  too  great  a  temptation  for  the 
Eomau  princes  of  the  fifteenth  century,  who  saw  in  it  a 
mine  of  wealth  for  the  construction  of  their  palaces,  and 
whom  we  of  these  more  modern  times  have  to  anathematize 
for  doing  more  than  even  the  scythe  of  Time  would  have 
done  towards  its  destruction  ;  for  the  Farnese,  San  Marco, 
and  Barberini  palaces  were  built  of  stone  plundered  from 
its  walls  ;  and  that  one  of  the  spoilers  at  least  was  conscious 
of  the  outrage  he  was  committing  is  evidenced  by  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  is  described  to  have  set  about  it. 

This  was  the  Cardinal  Farnese,  who,  after  long  im- 
portunity to  his  uncle,  Paul  III.,  who  was  Pope  1534-50, 
and  a  setting  forth  of  his  need  of  a  little  of  the  useless 
stone  tliat  he  represented  was  falling  to  ruin  and  decay,  at 
length  extorted  a  reluctant  consent  from  the  old  pontiflF  that 
he  might  take  as  much  stone  as  he  could  remove  in  twelve 
hours.  He  improved  this  permission  by  setting  four  thou- 
sand workmen  at  the  task  for  that  length  of  time,  and,  as 
may  be  reasonably  inferred,  obtained  a  very  respectable 
amount  of  building  material  for  his  new  palace. 

The  structure  is  guarded  jealously  enough  now,  how- 
ever, for  in  my  walk  through  it  I  chanced  to  see  a  two-inch 
marble  chip  amid  a  heap  of  debris,  and  had  scarcely  trans- 
ferred it  to  my  pocket  as  a  memento  of  the  visit,  ere  one  of 
the  military  guardians  of  the  place  was  at  my  side  to  inform 
me  that  "il  est  defendu,  Ilorisieur,"  (it  is  forbidden)  ;  and  I 
was    forced   to  throw    down    the    bit    of  stone    ajrain.     A 


WALKING    OVER    THE    ROYAL    ROAD.  233 

little  further  on,  however,  when  a  friendly  arch  interfered 
between  the  soldier  and  his  commanding  officer,  he  com- 
municated to  me  that  he  had  some  very  fine  specimens  of 
fragments  of  maible  and  antique  carving  found  hero,  to 
sell,  which  he  would  be  glad  to  bring  to  my  lodgings  if 
desired. 

We  owe  to  the  French  the  clearing  of  the  accumulated 
rubbish  of  centuries  from  the  arena  of  the  Colosseum,  and 
to  Pope  Pius  VII.  the  buikling  of  the  wall  that  supports 
the  shattered  part  or  end  of  the  gap.  I  lialted  at  the  lower 
arches,  which,  as  I  arrived  at  them,  began  to  give  me  a  new 
idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  structure.  Above  man}"-  of 
them  I  could  plainly  trace  the  Roman  numerals,  such  as 
XXV,  XL,  XXXI,  which,  as  they  were  all  used  as  places 
of  ingress  and  egress  for  the  vast  multitude  who  attended 
tlie  games,  were  doubtless  numbered  that  each  might  know 
the  proper  entrance  to  reach  his  place  without  trouble  or 
confusion.  We  walked  round  this  vast  outer  corridor  of 
entrances,  halted  at  one  wider  than  the  rest,  above  which 
were  no  figures,  and  which  is  said  to  have  been  the  imperial 
entrance,  the  passage  by  wliich  the  emperor  passed  to  reach 
his  place  to  grace  the  games  by  his  imperial  presence. 

And  over  tliis  road  to  the  spectacle  may  have  passed 
Vespasian  or  Trajan,  Hadrian,  Domitian,  or  Titus  the  con- 
queror of  Jerusalem  ;  the  last-named  reminding  us  that  this 
great  monument  to  Rome's  glory,  tliis  relic  and  reminder  of 
her  savage  cruelty  and  lust  for  blood,  which  was  dedicated 
by  the  Roman  conqueror  of  tlie  Holy  City,  is  said  to  have 
had  twelve  thousand  captive  Jews  employed  upon  the  labor 
of  its  erection,  its  very  stones  cemented  with  the  groans  and 
tears  of  a  captive  people  beneath  the  taskmaster's  whip,  as 
were  those  of  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,  where  the  Hebrews 
were  also  captives  and  the  Egyptians  the  tyrants.  Round 
under  this  great  lower  tier  of  arches,  this  huge  lobby  to 
the  amphitheatre,  passed  the  incoming  and  outgoing  crowds 
on  the  days  of  the  games  and  gladiatorial  combats. 


234  ARCIIITECTUKAL    SKILL. 

We  reached  the  gate  of  entrance,  guarded  by  a  cus- 
todian, and  passed  iu  from  the  outer  circle  of  entrance 
arches  to  the  next  series  ;  and  here  we  had  opportunity  of 
marking  the  wondrous  skill  with  wliich  the  architect  or 
architects,  whoever  they  may  have  been,  planned  this  vast 
theatre  fur  the  accommodation  of  the  one  hundred  thousand 
spectators  it  was  designed  to  contain,  so  that  there  should 
be  no  confusion  attending  their  entrance  or  exit,  and  that 
the  different  classes  should  be  able  to  reach  the  positions 
designed  for  them  without  coming  in  contact  with  each 
other  after  entering. 

The  name  of  the  designer  of  the  Colosseum  has  not  come 
down  to  us,  though  it  is  well  known  that  the  structure  was 
commenced  b}''  Vespasian  a.  d.  12,  and  dedicated  eight 
years  afterwards  by  Titus,  after  his  return  from  the  conquest 
of  Jerusalem.  But,  whoever  the  designer  was,  his  plans 
for  the  convenience  and  acconmiodation  of  so  vast  an  au- 
dience seem  as  well-nigh  perfect  as  they  possibly  could  be. 

I  had  now  got  within  the  second  corridor,  which,  like 
the  outer  one  above  referred  to,  ran  entirely  around  the 
building,  and  within  this  was  another  ;  eighty  walls,  cor- 
responding with  the  number  of  entrance  arches,  radiated 
inwards  from  the  second  corridor,  and  supported  the 
structure  ;  and  between  these  walls  were  the  staircases 
leading  to  a  third  corridor,  which  also  ran  around  the 
building.  Tlien  came  the  eighty  division  walls  again,  with 
spaces  for  the  staircases  and  passages  leading  to  the 
inner  or  fourth  corridor,  divided  from  the  arena  by  a  huge 
wall,  upon  the  top  of  which  was  the  lower  range  of  seats 
for  spectators  of  the  highest  rank,  who  sat  fifteen  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  arena,  and  were  still  further  pro- 
tected, when  wild-beast  combats  took  place,  by  a  metal  net- 
work or  trellis. 

But  I  am  not  going  to  describe  the  Colosseum  as  it  was, 
although,  to  every  visitor  of  an  imaginative  turn  who  comes 
here,  its  ancient  uiagnificeuce  may  be  filled  out  in  his  own 


A    DREAM    OF    THE    PAST.  235 

mind's  eye.  I  interested  myself  first  by  climbing  to  the 
great  square,  ruined  blocks,  which  are  said  to  have  been 
where  the  emperor  sat  to  witness  the  games,  and  thinking 
that  here  had  Vespasian  and  Titus  and  Doraitian,  Cara- 
calla  and  Hadrian  sat,  as  the  group  of  gladiators  paused 
beneath,  before  engaging  in  mortal  combat,  to  salute  them 
with  uplifted  arms  with,  Ave  Gcesar,  Imperator,  Morituri  te 
salutant.  ("  Hail,  Imperial  Csesar  !  Those  who  are  about 
to  die  salute  thee.")  To  which  the  imperial  tyrant,  with 
nod  of  approval,  replied,  Avete  vos.      ("Health  to  you.") 

Shattered  like  the  great  empire  that  was  raised  with 
blood,  strengthened  by  conquest,  and  made  splendid  with 
the  spoil  of  nations,  is  the  proud  throne  from  which  the 
emperors  looked  down  upon  the  bloody  circus,  —  a  few 
jagged  rocks  with  no  semblance  of  seat  or  dais  ;  the  cir- 
cle of  the  podium,  or  lower  ring,  just  outlined  here  and 
there  by  the  line  of  ruins  that  runs  around  in  jagged  de- 
formity. It  requires  a  pretty  strong  stretch  of  imagination 
to  reproduce  it  as  the  high  marble  wall,  decorated  with  bas- 
reliefs  and  statuary,  and  peopled  with  prastors,  consuls, 
aediles,  and  vestal  virgins,  who  sat  here  to  witness  some  of 
the  most  terrible  dramas  ever  enacted  in  ancient  Rome,  — 
who  looked  upon  men  cut  down  by  thousands,  or  saw  them 
torn  by  ravenous  beasts  without  a  shudder,  and  whose  exul- 
tant habet !  as  the  weapon  of  the  more  skilful  gladiator 
crushed  the  life  out  of  his  panting  adversary,  applauded  "  the 
wretch  who  w^on." 

But  I  climbed  down  from  my  perch  from  the  emperor's 
seat,  and  then  we  explored  the  stairways  and  passages, 
and  some  of  us  ascended  away  up  to  the  highest  point 
where  it  was  safe  to  go,  and  looked  down,  as  did  the  Roman 
people  a  thousand  3'ears  ago,  upon  the  bloody  ring  beneath  ; 
and  I  could  not  but  notice  that  at  whatever  point  we 
paused,  the  whole  of  the  arena  was  visible,  it  evidently  hav- 
ing been  so  contrived  that  the  spectacle  should  be  in  unin- 
terrupted view  of  the  whole  of  the  vast  assemblage. 


236  EXPLORING    THE    COLOSSEUM". 

It  is  a  grand  view,  this  sight  of  the  whole  vast  theatre, 
or  all  that  remains  of  it,  below  you,  and  the  great  stone  circle, 
huge  even  seen  from  this  height,  stretching  out  its  vast 
ring  on  either  side.  It  was  a  realization  to  me  of  youthful 
dreams,  a  fruition  of  hope,  to  stand  here  upon  the  top  of 
the  amphitheatre  of  imperial  Rome,  and  look  down  upon  its 
tier  on  tier  of  arches,  brown,  crumbling  ruins,  fringed  with 
flowers  and  grass  or  waving  weeds,  great  yawning  black 
chasms  here  and  there,  where  the  masonry  had  fallen  in, 
and  opposite  me  the  ridgy,  ragged  edges  of  the  partition 
walls,  standing  sharply  out  in  the  shade,  like  crayon-lines  or 
tlie  ribs  of  the  great  skeleton  from  which  the  flesh  had 
mouldered  and  fallen. 

Turning,  I  looked  upon  the  Forum,  the  triumphal  arches, 
and  the  landscape,  and  Ronie's  hills  beneath  the  blue  bend- 
ing azure  of  an  Italian  sky,  and  found  that  an  Italian  sun  was 
all  too  fervid  to  dream  or  sentimentalize  under  ;  and  so,  hav- 
ing climbed  about  from  point  to  point  of  the  different  circles 
of  the  great  amphitheatre,  wherever  the  guardian  who  fol- 
lowed us  would  permit,  (and  to  some  places  he  would  not 
permit,)  I  prepared  to  descend  and  visit  the  different  points 
of  interest  in  and  about  the  arena.  And  here  I  may  ob- 
serve that  clambering  about  upon  some  of  the  upper  por- 
tions of  the  structure  is  extremely  dangerous,  owing  to  the 
deceptive  appearance  caused  by  grasses  or  vegetation  near 
the  edge,  which  the  incautious  explorer  may  approach  too 
near,  and  be  precipitated  down  a  ruined  archway,  or  from 
one  platform  to  that  beneath,  if  he  undertakes  to  elude  the 
custodians  of  the  place,  or  explore  portions  which  have  been 
shut  off  from  visitors  or  over  which  they  are  forbidden  to 
pass. 

Descending,  I  found  myself  behind  the  podium,  or  lower 
wall,  that  directly  inclosed  the  arena  ;  and  here  we  were 
shown  various  interesting  remains  :  one  a  long  passage  re- 
cently opened,  which  led  from  the  arena  floor  to  the  Palace 
of  Titus,  and  another  which  led  to  the  menagerie.     There  is 


BEHIND    THE    SCENES.  237 

a  long  covered  passage,  which  has  been  opened,  that  ran 
completely  around  the  arena,  just  back  of  the  inner  wall, 
and  which,  our  cicerone  informed  us,  was  used  as  a  passage 
for  the  slaves  and  those  who  did  the  work  of  the  arena  to 
pass  from  point  to  point  to  perform  their  duties  while  the 
combats  were  going  on,  so  as  not  to  cross  the  open  space  or 
interrupt  the  proceedings. 

Then  we  went  into  two  great  dens,  recently  cleared  out, 
where  the  wild  beasts  were  confined,  close  to  the  arena,  so 
they  could  be  easily  freed  and  sent  out  to  take  their  part  in 
the  scene  before  the  populace.  In  another  passage  running 
around  the  arena  are  smaller  dens,  with  holes  above,  through 
which  the  occupants  could  be  fed.  The  various  chambers,  gal- 
leries, dens,  and  great  arched  cell-looking  apartments  be- 
hind the  podium  must  have  been  those  that  held  gladiators, 
beasts,  horses,  chariots,  and  slaves.  It  is  really  the  "  be- 
hind the  scenes,"  as  it  were,  and  where  hungry  wild  beasts 
were  imprisoned  ;  where  fierce  gladiators,  armed  and  impa- 
tient, waited  their  turn  to  distinguish  themselves  in  mortal 
combat  beneath  the  imperial  eye  ;  where  trembling  martyrs 
heard  the  fierce  cry  of  the  assembled  thousands  that  crowded 
the  circus  hungry  for  their  blood,  and  demanding  them  to 
be  brought  forth.  And  here  is  one  of  the  entrances  through 
which  the  gladiators  stepped  forth  into  the  arena  beneath  the 
excited  gaze  of  a  hundred  thousand  spectators.  And  I  walked 
forth  through  it  on  a  bright,  beautiful  spring  day,  paced 
across  the  arena,  and  stood  in  the  centre  of  the -Roman 
Colosseum,  beneath  and  before  the  emperor's  seat  upon  the 
podium. 

No  one  who  is  at  all  familiar  with  the  bloody  scenes 
enacted  on  this  spot  and  in  this  great  ellipse,  so  famous  in 
the  world's  history,  can  stand  here  for  the  first  time  without 
a  thrill  of  emotion.  Imagination  at  once  reci'eates  the  vast 
circle  ;  and  tier  on  tier  of  galleries  rise  above  the  visitor  ; 
great  swelling  waves  of  spectators,  all  with  their  terrible 
eyes  of  eager   anticipation  centred  upon  one  object :    and 


258  THE  COLOSSEUM  AS  IT    WAS. 

you  feci  that  he  who  stood  there  was  the  focus  of  that  ob- 
servation. You  can  almost  imagine  you  hear  the  hum  and 
murmur  of  the  vast  throng  in  the  marble  balconies  that  ring 
in  the  bloody  battle-ground,  —  the  muffled  growls  of  the 
wild  beasts  behind  their  iron  gratings  in  the  lower  wall  of 
the  arena,  becoming  more  distinct  in  the  hush  of  expecta- 
tion that  succeeds,  as  the  spectators  lean  forward  in  breath- 
less interest  when  the  gladiators  cautiously  approach  each 
other  to  cross  weapons  in  deadly  combat. 

Here  stretches  the  great  elliptical  arena,  strewn  with  its 
colored  sand  or  sawdust,  to  afibrd  firm  footing  for  the  com- 
batants and  absorb  the  blood  of  the  slain  ;  around  it  the 
first  wall,  tlie  podium,  fifteen  feet  in  height,  sheathed  with 
smooth  marble,  its  top  lined  with  the  gilded  netting,  —  pro- 
tection against  the  spring  of  some  lithe  leopard  or  frantic 
tiger  ;  at  intervals,  pierced  with  openings  for  the  entrance 
of  gladiators  or  wild  beasts,  the  latter  apertures  guarded  by 
bronze  portcullis  gratings,  which  can  be  hoisted  from  above 
Avlien  the  animals,  hungered  from  long  fast,  are  to  be  set  at 
liberty. 

Upt)n  the  podium  we  see  the  elevated  chair  of  the  em- 
peror surrounded  by  his  friends,  magistrates  in  their  curule 
chairs,  persons  of  rank,  prgetors  and  consuls.  All  around 
this  wall  rise  sculptures,  statues,  and  decorations  ;  and  as 
the  eye  sweeps  over  its  circuit,  it  encounters  the  Priests  of 
Jupiter  and  the  Vestal  Virgins,  admitted  to  this  favored 
position  by  virtue  of  their  office.  Two  grand  principal  en- 
trances divide  the  circle  of  the  podium,  affording  points  of 
admittance  for  processions  of  gladiators,  chariots  for  chariot- 
racing,  or  displays  of  pageantry. 

Above  the  podium  rise  the  three  great  tiers  or  circles  of 
scats,  each  separated  from  the  others  by  a  broad  promenade 
or  platform.  In  the  first  tier  are  fourteen  rows  of  marble 
benches  for  senators  and  Roman  knights.  Then,  above 
this,  sixteen  serried  rings  of  the  plebeian  populace  ;  then 
another  division  terrace  or  landing  place,  above  which  ten 


"  THE    CHRISTIANS    TO    THE    LIONS  !  "  239 

circles  of  the  soldiery  and  jndlaH,  the  lowest  orders  of  the 
common  people,  looked  down  ;  and  away  up  above  all  is  the 
open  gallery,  where  the  men  work  the  ropes  that  manage 
the  huge  canopy  that  shields  the  spectators  from  the  sun. 
The  occupant  of  the  arena  looked  up  at  tier  on  tier  of  faces 
rising  one  above  the  other,  far  up,  as  it  were,  to  the  sky, 
holding  him  down  below  as  the  central  point  or  focus  of 
their  fixed  gaze. 

Hero,  within  the  very  space  we  stand  upon,  has  the  blood 
of  the  early  Christians  poured  out  its  precious  libation,  and, 
while  lying  bound  within  their  cells  beneath  the  podium, 
the}'  have  heard  the  terrible  cry  that  ran  all  around  the  vast 
area  of,  "  The  Christians  to  the  lions  !  the  Christians  to  the 
lions  !  "  until  pushed  forth  into  the  bloody  circle  at  one 
side ;  the  bronze  portcullis  at  the  same  time  was  hoisted 
opposite,  and  the  starved  and  ferocious  beasts  were  let  loose 
upon  them,  or  they  fell  beneath  the  arrow-shots  of  the  sol- 
diery. Here  the  Emperor  Commodus  himself  essayed  the 
hand-to-hand  combat.  Of  course,  he  was  victorious  and 
slew  his  adversary,  —  for  woe  be  to  him  who  shed  imperial 
blood  ;  and  his  adversary's  poor  weapon,  bent  and  shat- 
tered beneath"  the  tempered  steel  of  the  heavy  imperial 
sword,  as  it  crushed  down  into  the  bloody  dust  the  poor 
slave,  cloven  to  the  teeth  ;  and  the  roj'al  conqueror  strutted 
round  in  lion-skin  mantle,  imagining  himself  Hercules,  amid 
the  servile  shouts  of  the  spectators. 

Let  not  the  reader  unfamiliar  with  Roman  histor}'  imagine 
that  onl}'  two  or  three  gladiators  or  half  a  dozen  wild  beasts! 
were  let  loose  at  once  in  the  amphitheatre.  Had  this  been 
all,  a  far  smaller  space  would  have  sufficed.  This  vast  area 
was  the  result  cvf  a  bloody  appetite  that  grew  upon  what 
it  fed,  and  a  thousand  savage  beasts  a  day  have  fallen 
witliin  its  dreadful  circle  ;  gladiators  by  hundreds  at  a  time 
have  closed  in  deadly  contest  with  each  other,  and  piled  the 
ground  with  scores  of  slaughtered  combatants. 

Here  Titus,  at  the  dedication  of  the  building,  and  on  his 


240  HOREORS  OF  THE  ARENA. 

return  from  the  conquest  of  Jerusalem,  slaug'htered  five 
thousand  wild  beasts  ;  elephants  fought  with  lions,  tigers 
with  bears,  bulls  with  leopards  ;  and  c  striches,  stags,  boars, 
giraffes,  and  even  cranes  and  pigmies,  were  brought  into  the 
arena.  Here  Hadrian  celebrated  his  birthday  by  the  slaugh- 
ter of  a  hundred  lions  and  as  many  lionesses,  besides  eight 
hundred  other  wild  beasts  ;  and  the  arena  was  so  arranged, 
as  has  been  recorded  and  since  been  proved  by  recent  exca- 
vations, that  it  could  be  flooded  with  water  and  the  spec- 
tators treated  to  a  representation  of  a  sea-fight,  the  combat- 
ants being  gladiators  in  galleys  that  met  upon  the  water 
and  engaged  in  deadly  contest. 

Invention  seems  to  have  been  racked  to  present  novelties 
to  the  people,  as  is  evidenced  by  the  varieties  of  combatants, 
the  descriptions  of  which  have  come  down  to  us. 

The  Roman  emperors,  from  Titus  down  to  Honorius,  a.  d. 
403,  for  nearly  four  centuries,  sat  in  this  great  theatre  to 
view  the  terrible  scenes  enacted  upon  the  inclosed  space  we 
were  now  pacing  over.  Titus,  conqueror  of  Jerusalem,  took 
delight  in  these  gladiatorial  contests.  Domitian,  his  cruel 
brother,  Avho  delighted  to  see  men  killed  for  sport,  and  who 
spiked  flies  on  a  pin  to  amuse  himself,  sat  upon  the  podium, 
and  was  in  all  his  glory  here  in  the  gratification  of  his  cruel 
and  sensual  spirit.  Gladiatorial  battles,  fierce  and  bloody 
sea-fights,  and  women  as  gladiators,  were  features  of  his  en- 
tertainments. Trajan,  after  his  triumph  over  the  Dacians, 
looked  down  here  upon  tremendous  struggles,  in  which 
thousands  of  combatants  were  engaged.  Other  frequenters 
of  the  Colosseum  were  Hadrian,  his  successor,  already  re- 
ferred to,  under  whom  the  Christian  Bishop  of  lllyria  yielded 
up  his  life  on  this  spot ;  the  bloody  Commodus,  who  came 
so  near  meeting  his  merited  death  by  the  hands  of  the  assas- 
sin ill  the  narrow  passage  leading  to  his  seat  in  this  very 
amphitheatre,  —  a  passage  which  some  guides  try  to  point 
out  to  you  ;  Caracalla,  the  parricide  ;  Philip,  who,  about 
A.  D.  248,  celebrated  the  one  thousandth  annivei'sary  of  the 


AN    IMPERIAL    JOKER.  241 

foundation  of  Rome  here  with  gladiatorial  combats,  games, 
and  chariot-racing ;  Claudius,  conqueror  of  the  Goths  ; 
^milian  and  Aurelian,  in  whose  x'eigns  men  were  exposed 
to  wild  beasts,  and  those  not  devoured  hewn  down  by 
gladiators. 

But  amid  these  bloody  recollectioDS  of  the  place,  as  we 
follow  the  line  of  emperors  down,  comes  to  us  a  record  of 
another  character,  —  that  of  a  practical  joke  that  is  re- 
corded to  have  been  perpetrated  by  the  Emperor  Galiieuus, 
son  of  Valerian.  The  story  runs  that  the  emperor's  wife, 
having  been  cheated  in  the  purchase  of  some  jewelry,  fell 
into  -a  violent  rage  with  the  jeweller,  and  demanded  a  terri- 
ble punishment  upon  him,  and  one  that  should  be  a  warning 
to  all  jewellers  in  future  of  the  danger  of  cheating  an  em- 
press. Gallienus  assented  ;  the  fellow  was  arrested,  and 
sentenced  to  be  thrown  to  the  wild  beasts  in  the  arena.  He 
was  dragged  there,  half  dead  with  fright,  when  the  next 
games  took  place,  and  at  the  appointed  time,  when  his  part 
of  the  performance  was  to  occur,  was  thrust  forth  into  the 
ring,  where,  half  fainting  with  terror,  he  sank  down  upon 
the  red  sand  as  the  bronze  portcullis  of  the  wild  beasts'  den 
was  hoisted,  when,  instead  of  a  hungry  lion  springing  upon 
him,  or  a  terrible  tiger  leaping  forth,  out  walked  an  old  hen  ! 

In  reply  to  the  indignant  demand  for  an  explanation  by 
the  empress,  her  imperial  consort  declared  that  to  be  very 
simple  ;  for  as  the  man  had,  according  to  her  account,  ter- 
ribl}'^  cheated  her,  so  he  had  been  terribly'-  cheated  in  return. 

The  Emperor  Probus  had,  about  a.  d.  280,  a  grand  wild- 
beast  slaughter  here,  and  at  another  time  he  bad  in  the  ring 
six  hundred  gladiators  and  seven  hundred  wild  beasts.  At 
length  Constantino,  in  330,  made  a  law  prohibiting  gladiato- 
rial combats,  but  the  people  were  too  fond  of  the  bloody 
spectacle  to  yield  it. 

Seventy  years  after,  however,  when  Christianity  was 
nearly  four  centuries  old,  and  the  brutal  gladiatorial  combat 
was  in  full  progress,  a  Christian  monk  leaped  from  the  po- 
16 


242  SYSTEMATIC    SIGHT-SEEING. 

dium  into  the  arena,  and,  rushing  amid  the  combatants, 
entreated  tlieni  with  prayers  to  separate.  Enraged  at  the 
interruption,  the  Trietor  Alybius  bade  the  g-ladiators  kill  the 
intruder,  and  the  monk  Telemachus  paid  the  penalty  of  his 
life  for  his  noble  endeavor  ;  but  it  was  a  successful  one,  for 
the  Emperor  Ilonorius  abolished  gladiatorial  combats  from 
that  time  ;  and  Telemachus,  who  was  hewn  down  by  gladia- 
toi's,  marked  with  his  death  the  day  of  the  last  gladiatorial 
combat  in  the  Flavian  Ampliitheatre. 

The  reader,  who  has  followed  the  author  in  his  visits 
to  St.  Peter's,  the  Capitol,  the  Forum,  the  Pantheon,  the 
triumphal  arches  and  columns,  the  Vatican,  and  Flavian 
Amphitheatre,  will  perhaps  think  he  has  seen  a  large  portion 
of  old  Rome.  While  it  may  be  admitted  that  the  sights 
above  enumerated  have,  to  use  the  tourist's  expression,  been 
"done"  systematically  and  pretty  thoroughly,  it  will  be 
found,  if  the  visitor  has  any  enthusiasm  as  a  tourist,  anti- 
quary, or  student,  that  he  has  but  taken  the  introductory 
steps  towards  making  himself  acquainted  with  the  old  city  ; 
and,  let  the  appetite  grow  as  it  will  upon  what  it  feeds,  the 
material  that  is  still  presented  for  fresh  repasts  is  rich  and 
almost  inexhaustible  :  so  that  the  traveller  with  tastes  that 
are  gratified  by  visits  to  the  historic  spots  and  ruins  in  this 
city  of  youthful  study  and  later  dreams,  finds,  as  did  the 
author,  the  brief  space  of  time  that  can  be  devoted  to  it 
from  an  ordinar}^  European  tour  insufiicient  to  do  justice  to 
scarcely  half  that  which  it  seemed  should  not  be  omitted. 

There  must  necessarily  be  much  in  foreign  cities  that  will 
be  hastily  visited,  or  entirely  omitted,  by  both  tourists  and 
authors,  as  each  devotes  the  larger  portion  of  his  time  to 
that  branch  of  sight-seeing  most  in  accordance  with  his 
tastes  and  desires.  Hence,  we  read  many  descriptions  to 
obtain  complete  accounts. 

The  splendid  marbles,  vases,  and  other  decorations  that 
aix*  seen  in  the  museums  of  Rome,  as  having  been  found 
at  Caracalla's  Baths,  naturally  excite   a  desire  to  visit  the 


CAKACALLA  S    BATHS.  243 

ruins  of  those  celebrated  structures,  —  that  is,  with  most 
people  ;  for  there  are  exceptions,  as  in  the  case  of  one  tour- 
ist, who  told  us  he  was  "  tired  enough  of  old  ruins  without 
going-  to  look  at  what  was  left  of  an  old  bath-house  !  " 

And  this  expression  brings  us  to  the  consideration  that 
there  are  many  that  read,  as  well  as  many  that  travel,  who 
have  an  incorrect  idea  of  Roman  baths  ;  deriving  their  im- 
pressions, probably,  from  baths  of  modern  times,  and  sup- 
posing the  ancient  ones  to  be  like  the  modern,  except  that 
the  former  were  more  luxurious  and  perfect  in  fittings  and 
appointments. 

To  obtain  an  idea  of  the  extent  of  this  Roman  luxury,  the 
tourist  should  by  all  means  visit  these  interesting  ruins  ;  and 
he  will  be  astonished  to  find  himself  in  the  midst  of  arched 
passages,  a  long  extent  of  ruined  walls,  great  halls  with 
lofty,  shattered  ceilings,  and  elegant  mosaic  floors  with  beali- 
tiful  colored  designs  wrought  in  the  pavement,  —  a  collec- 
tion of  ruins  which  requires  the  walk  of  an  English  mile  to 
encompass  them.  The  buildings  must  have  been  in  the 
form  of  a  large  parallelogram,  exterior  or  outer  buildings  of 
fort3'-two  hundred  feet,  inclosing  an  inner  or  great  court, 
which  was  cut  up  into  various  divisions.  In  this  great 
inner  court  was  a  grand  building  on  arches,  which  was 
seven  hundred  feet  long  by  four  hundred  and  fifty  broad. 
These  great  buildings  now  present  to  the  spectator  only  a 
series  of  roofless  ruins,  with  great  fragments  of  arches  and 
walls  ;  and  you  may  pass  through  what  Avere  once  large 
and  elegant  halls  and  apartments,  well  defined  by  lines  of 
masonry,  from  which  the  decorations  and  rich  marbles  have 
been  stripped,  as  is  plainly  evident  by  fragments  that  here 
and  there  remain,  or  a  patch  of  what  was  once  one  great 
sheet  of  mosaic  pavement. 

The  numerous  halls  and  apartments  of  this  extensive  ruin 
will  indicate  to  the  visitor  how  complete  must  have  been 
this  grand  establishment  for  the  comfort  and  luxurious  en- 
joyment of  the  people.     First,  for  tlie  purposes  of  bathing, 


244  AN    ANCIENT    POPULAR    RKSOET. 

there  was  every  possible  auxiliary  and  convenience  that 
could  be  devised, — the  Apodyterium,  or  disrobing  room; 
the  Sudatorium,  or  vapor  batli  ;  Tepidarium,  or  tepid  bath  ; 
Caldarium,  or  hot  bath  ;  Frigidarium,  or  cold  bath  ;  and  the 
Unctuarium,  or  perfuming  and  anointing  room,  where  the 
bather  was  perfumed  and  anointed  with  oil.  The  remains 
of  these,  in  various  stages  of  ruin,  are  traced  out,  and 
also  the  vaults  beneath,  by  which  the  water  was  heated 
by  means  of  furnaces  or  stoves.  Then  there  was  one  large, 
open  swimming-bath,  open  to  the  sky  above,  in  which,  we 
were  told,  a  thousand  could  bathe  at  once ;  and  indeed  the 
space,  as  it  looks  now,  appears  as  if  very  nearly  that  number 
might  have  done  so.  The  Caldarium,  or  hot  bath  room  here, 
was  a  circular,  Pantheon-like  building,  lighted  from  above. 

But  it  was  not  alone  for  bathing  and  swimming  that 
the  people  resoi'ted  here  ;  for  there  were,  besides  the  baths 
of  different  temperature,  gardens  and  fountains,  libraries, 
rooms  for  discussions,  theatres  for  athletic  games,  shady 
and  pleasant  walks,  an  arena  for  running  and  wrestling,  re- 
freshment shops,  perfume  and  fancy  bazaars,  and  halls  for 
poets  to  recite  their  verses,  lecture-rooms  and  theatres  for 
comedy  performances,  with  seats  for  spectators ;  all  of 
which  made  the  Baths  a  place  of  resort,  not  only  for  the 
cleansing  and  refreshment  of  ablution,  but  a  great  place  of 
amusement,  entertainment,  and  luxurious  enjoyment  of  the 
Roman,  people.  Tiiese  baths  were  said  by  ancient  authoi*- 
ity  to  be  capable  of  accommodating  sixteen  hundred  people  ; 
and  the  price  of  a  bath  was  a  quadrans,  the  smallest  piece 
of  money,  from  Cicero  down. 

Beautiful  statues,  rich  frescos  and  mosaics,  magnificent 
vases,  great  porphyry  tubs  for  private  bathing-rooms,  some 
of  which  are  now  to  be  seen  in  the  Vatican  Museum,  and  ele- 
gant carvings  and  bas-reliefs,  were  among  the  splendors  lav- 
ished upon  the  Baths,  which  were,  as  will  be  seen,  a  place 
of  gathering  for  intellectual  and  ph^'sical  recreation.  All 
around  and  through  these  ruins  are  heaps  of  marble  or  ala- 


THE    PALACE    OF    THE    C^SARS.  245 

baster,  or  porphyry  and  granite  chips,  and  the  temptation  to 
bring  away  fragments  of  the  coh)red  mosaic  pavements  that 
have  recently  been  uncovered  is  such  that  tourists  are  con- 
stantly followed  by  a  soldier  or  custodian  to  see  that  not  a 
fragment  is  stolen.  It  would  have  been  well  had  the  sur- 
veillance commenced  a  little  earlier,  before  the  magnificent 
columns  of  granite  were  taken  away  by  the  popes  and  the 
Farnese  family,  causing  the  great  vaulted  roofs  of  the  outer 
Burruunding  porticos  to  fall  in  and  become  a  mass  of  shape- 
less ruins.  The  princes  of  the  Farnese  family  were  great 
ruin-plunderers,  their  palace  being  built  of  stones  taken 
from  the  Colosseum,  its  two  great  fountains  dropping  their 
jets  into  granite  basins  seventeen  feet  in  length  and  four 
feet  deep,  taken  from  the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  and  a  sar- 
cophagus from  the  tomb  of  Cajcilia  Metella  adorning  (?)  one 
of  its  porticos. 

The  ruins  known  as  the  Palace  of  the  Cfesars  are  sur- 
rounded with  such  a  halo  of  the  old  legendary  Roman  story, 
and  present  so  many  interesting  specimens  of  Rome's  early 
grandeur,  remains  of  which  were  brought  to  light  and 
exposed  to  modern  gaze  by  the  learned  scholar,  Pietro 
Rosa,  under  the  direction  of  Louis  Napoleon  while  emperor 
of  Franco,  that  one  shrinks  from  attempting  any  description 
on  account  of  the  temptation  to  recapitulate  the  events  of 
Rome's  earliest  history,  commencing  with  the  somewhat 
mythical  Romulus  and  Remus  legends.  It  is  sufficient  to 
say,  in  the  brief  allusion  that  we  shall  make  to  these  ruins, 
known  as  the  Palace  of  the  Csesars,  and  the  recent  excava- 
tions made,  that  they  are  of  the  most  interesting  chai'acter 
to  the  student  from  the  fact  of  their  being  upon  the  Palatine 
Hill,  which  was  the  very  foundation  and  site  of  the  city  of 
Romulus  ;  and  that  you  are  shown  here,  excavated  far  down 
below  imperial  Rome's  ruins,  buried  under  the  buildings  and 
palaces  at  the  time  of  the  Caesars,  the  massive  wall  of  the 
four-sided  Rome  described  by  Tacitus,  —  enormous  blocks 
of  masonry.     Here    they  show  us   the  walls   of    Romulus, 


246  STREETS    DESCRIBED    BY    OYID    AST)    VIKGIL. 

built   of  a   sort   of  lava   rock,    found   preciselj'   where   the 
oldest  chroniclers  of  Eorae  have   located   them. 

Indeed,  these  excavations  have  tended  to  verifj'  much  that 
had  been  for  many  years  received  as  little  else  than  mythical 
legends  of  early  Rome,  We  can  as  tourists,  however,  but 
bestow  a  passing  glance  upon  this  compressed  mass  of  his- 
toric ground,  so  to  speak,  which,  although  but  a  trapezium 
with  two  sides  three  hundred  yards  in  length,  and  the  other 
two  four  hundred,  has,  like  the  Forum,  historic  ruin  enough 
heaped  up  in  it,  and  is  the  scene  of  historic  events  enough 
to  keep  historians  and  antiquaries  busy  for  centuries  to 
come,    as   it  has  for  centuries  past. 

The  house  of  the  Emperor  Augustus  was  here,  but  Domi- 
tian  was  the  first  one  to  build  a  palace,  and,  rambling  among 
what  appear  to  be  mere  jagged  remnants  of  ruin,  you  are 
told  they  are  the  autlienticated  remains  of  his  imperial  edi- 
fice, and  others  are  of  the  Palace  of  Tiberius  ;  or  you  walk 
along  what  was  once  the  street  Via  Nova,  described  by 
Ovid  ;  or  are  shown  where  was  once  a  gate  mentioned  by 
Virgil  in  his  ^neid.  Here  was  Cicero's  house,  and  here 
Mark  Antony  and  Cajsar  lived,  — for  it  was  for  centuries  an 
aristocratic  quarter  of  Rome  ;  and  here  we  see  the  sub- 
structure of  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Victor,  which  was  in  all 
its  magnificence  two  thousand  years  ago.  Here  is  where 
Caligula  walked,  and  Nero  dwelt  and  enlarged  his  luxurious 
palace,  his   golden  house,  in  the  direction  of  the  Colosseum. 

But  the  most  interesting  portions  of  the  whole  mass  of 
ruins  are  the  rooms  of  Roman  dwelling-houses  of  the  time 
of  Augustus,  that  have  been  excavated  ;  and  the  apartments 
in  the  house  of  Livia,  who  was  the  divorced  wife  of  the 
Emperor  Augustus,  which  gives  us  back  the  patrician  Roman 
house  of  eighteen  hundred  years  ago.  There  is  the  vesti- 
bule, opening  on  to  the  alrium,  or  grand  entrance  hall  ;  then 
we  arc  introduced  into  the  chambers  of  honor,  private  liv- 
ing-rooms, and  baths.  Upon  the  walls  of  several  of  these 
apartments  still  remain  beautiful  decorative  paintings,  which 


THE    HOUSE    OF    LIVIA.  247 

prove  to  us  that  that  art  has  not  advanced  materially  even  in 
our  day  ;  for  the  superb  colorhig  and  beautiful  patterns  of 
the  frescos  which  still  remain  would  be  ornamental  and 
elegant  in  the  decoration  of  any  house  of  the  present  time. 
Galatea,  upon  the  waves,  with  Nereids  beside  her,  is  repre- 
sented in.  one  painting ;  lo  and  Argus  are  represented  in 
another  ;  and  the  decorative  borders  of  scroll-work  and  small 
designs  are  elegant  and  artistic,  and  look  quite  bright  and 
fresh,  though  they  are  preserved,  so  it  is  stated,  by  a  varnish 
which  is  made  up  after  an  old  receipt  described  by  Pliny, 
which  is  applied  soon  after  their  exhumation.  The  designs 
in  delicacy  of  coloring  are  said  to  be  superior  to  any  of  the 
Pompeiian  discoveries. 

The  House  of  Livia,  on  the  Palatine,  is  the  best  preserved 
of  any  of  those  excavated,  the  shape  of  the  apartments 
being  easily  marked  out  by  their  remaining  walls  and  lines 
of  masonry.  We  inspected  one,  evidently  a  library,  or 
students'  recitation  room,  according  to  the  old  inscription 
upon  the  wall,  which  stated  that  "here  an  oration  was  to 
be  spoken  once  a  month."  There  were  other  rooms  in 
which  still  remained  strips  of  the  elegant  marble  veneering 
in  various  colors,  that  once  formed  the  dado  work  or  "mop- 
board."  Fragments  of  elegant  pillars  that  had  upheld  lofty 
halls,  and  lines  of  strips  of  marble  that  once  w^-re  the  base 
of  palaces,  were  scattered  about,  all  that  remains  of  the 
latter  being  great  brick  walls  from  which  the  costly  marbles 
have  been  stripped  ;  and  I  went  away,  around,  and  below  at 
the  base  of  the  hill,  imagining  that  it  was  here,  perhaps, 
that  Romulus  traced  the  j^omoerium  of  his  city;  and  here  I 
looked  upon  the  ancient  arches  of  Tarquin's  time,  far  below 
the  ruins  that  I  had  just  walked  over,  and  above  which, 
\ajer  upon  layer,  rose  the  monuments  of  the  pride  of  suc- 
cessive generations  of  Roman  aristocracy,  who  for  so  many 
years,  rather  than  leave  this  favored  spot,  reared  their  pal- 
aces over  the  crumbling  ruins  of  the  dwellings  of  their  prede- 
cessors. 


248  THE    APPIAN    "WAY. 

The  first  ride  that  one  takes  out  of  Rome  is  over  that 
great  historic  road  which  rises  first  in  his  mind,  built  three 
centuries  before  the  birth  of  our  Saviour,  but  over  which 
the  Apostle  Paul  journeyed,  on  his  way  to  Rome,  as  de- 
scribed in  the  Bible,  in  tiie  twenty-eighth  chapter  of  Acts,  — 
the  Appian  Way. 

"  And  so  we  went  to  Rome.  And  from  thence,  when  the 
brethren  heard  of  us,  they  came  to  meet  us  as  far  as  the  Appii 
Forum  and  the  Three  Taverns  ;  whom  when  Paul  saw  he 
thanked  God  and  took  courage." 

It  is  a  broad,  straight  road,  paved  with  blocks  of  volcanic 
stone,  and  lined  with  shattered  fragments  of  the  splendid 
mausoleums  and  tombs  of  those  who  were  once  great,  noble, 
and  rich,  but  whose  wealth  and  fame  and  history  have  per- 
ished like  the  crumbling  monuments  raised  to  commemorate 
them. 

A  thorough  inspection  or  description  of  the  hundreds  or 
perhaps  thousands  of  remnants  of  tombs  that  line  both  sides 
of  this  great  historical  avenue  into  the  Eternal  City  would 
be  interesting  to  the  antiquary,  but  tedious  to  the  ordinary 
reader.  In  fact,  the  tourist  who  has  inspected  forums,  am- 
phitheatres, and  museums,  and  examined  tolerably  well- 
authenticated  relics  and  sculptures  of  antiquity,  which  are, 
by  association  or  otherwise,  connected  with  great  historic 
names,  will  hardly  feel,  on  the  Via  Appia,  like  spending 
much  time  over  what  was  once  the  handsome  tomb  of  a  Ro- 
man tax-gatherer,  or  that  of  Pliuius  Eytychius,  erected  by 
Plinius  Zosimus,  a  freedman  of  Plin}-  the  younger. 

But  we  were  interested,  as  we  were  just  starting  out,  to 
be  told,  at  a  certain  point,  that  here  stood  the  Porta  Capena, 
where  the  survivor  of  the  Iloratii  met  his  sister  on  his  re- 
turn from  the  memorable  combat,  and  slew  her  with  a  blow 
of  his  sword  on  seeing  her  express  grief  for  one  of  the  Cu- 
ratii  who  had  fallen  beneath  his  victorious  blade  ;  and  it  was 
at  this  gate  that  Cicero  was  received  by  the  Roman  people 
and  senate  on  his  return  from  banishment,  B.  c.  57. 


TO:,IB    OF    CECILIA    METELLA.  249 

We  halted  to  view  the  Tomb  of  the  Scipios,  from  which 
the  sarcophag-us  in  the  Vatican,  ah-eady  described  in  these 
pages,  was  taken.  It  is  simply  a  series  of  narrow  passages, 
like  the  tombs  of  any  distinguished  family,  dark  and  to  be 
explored  with  candles,  and  containing  little  now  but  the 
apertures  where  the  sarcophagi  were  placed,  the  more  pre- 
tentious monuments  being,  of  course,  elsewhere,  these  being 
but  the  catacombs  for  the  reception  of  the  mortal  remains. 

The  old  Arch  of  Drusus,  which  is  a  heavy,  plain  structure, 
with  a  great  mass  of  masonry  on  top  of  it  (part  of  an  aque- 
duct it  was  utilized  to  support),  was  erected  in  honor  of 
Drusus,  who  was  the  father  of  the  Emperor  Claudius,  and 
who  died  b.  c.  9.  We  look  up  at  it  as  we  pass,  as  being 
the  same  structure  beneath  which  the  Apostle  Paul  passed 
on  his  entrance  into  Rome.  About  one  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  beyond  this,  on  the  right,  was  discovered  the  first 
Roman  mile-stone  of  the  Appian  Wa}^  which  I  had  inspected 
with  much  interest  in  the  square  of  the  Capitol,  not  far 
from  the  head  of  the  flight  of  steps  leading  up  to  it. 

Tlie  great,  round,  fortress-like  tower  that  meets  our  gaze 
after  a  two-mile  ride,  is  a  familiar  one  —  the  Tomb  of  Csecilia 
Metella,  wife  of  Crassus.  This  grand  monument  is  one  of 
the  best  preserved  in  Rome,  and  has  defied  time  for  two 
thousand  years.  ]t  is  seventy  feet  in  diameter,  sits  upon  a 
huge  square  foundation,  and  is  built  of  large  blocks  of  hewn 
stone ;  it  has  a  white  marble  frieze,  decorated  with  bas- 
reliefs  of  the  skulls  of  oxen  and  wreaths  of  flowers,  and 
above  it  rise  the  battlements  of  a  fortress,  which  were 
added  when  it  was  turned  into  a  stronghold,  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  The  marble  coating,  as  usual,  of  this  tomb  was 
stripped  off  by  Pope  Urban  VIII.,  and  used  to  build  and  dec- 
orate the  Fountain  of  Trevi  in  the  city  ;  and  the  sarcophagus 
within,  as  has  before  been  mentioned,  was  taken  by  the 
Farnese  family.  The  inscription  records  that  the  monu- 
ment is  to  the  daughter  of  Metellus  Creticus,  wife  of  the 
triumvir    Crassus.       A    magnificent    tomb    it   was    for    the 


250  llOMAN    AQUEDUCTS. 

weiilthiest  Roman's  wife,  wlio,  with  all  the  money  he  ex- 
pended lor  the  preservation  of  her  precious  dust,  le't  us  only 
tlie  knowledge  that  she  died  his  wife,  and  that  this  was  a 
monument  of  his  love  and  pride. 

A  rusty-looking,  mahogany-visaged  custodian,  with  tlie 
remnants  of  what  might  have  once  been  a  bandit-peaked  hat, 
but  which  was  now  badly  crushed  out  of  shape,  and  boasted 
of  but  one  dirty  gi-een  band,  was  anxious  to  show  us  some 
of  the  interior,  and  pointed  to  a  narrow  door  in  the  wall  ; 
but  we  were  in  no  mood  to  explore  the  interior,  wliich  con- 
tains now  but  little  of  interest,  and  so  left  the  would-be 
cicerone  with  his  old  hat  in  one  hand  and  a  silver  lira  in  the 
other,  grateful  and  gratified. 

After  leaving  the  tunib  of  Ctecilia  Metella  behind  us,  the 
other  tombs  and  monuments  became  more  numerous  and 
more  distinctly  defined,  several  appearing  to  have  been 
somewhat  restored  and  we  began  to  be  more  fairly  out 
on  the  Roman  Campagna,  and  also  to  enjoy  "  the  prospect 
beyond  the  tomb."  This  we  find  in  the  broad  Campagna, 
with  its  distant  Sabine  and  Alban  Hills,  which  have  that 
beautiful  violet  blue  tint  so  peculiar  to  distant  mountains 
beneath  this  atmosphere.  Then  across  the  great  silent 
plains  you  can  mark  the  long,  sinuous  line  of  ruined  arches 
that  mark  the  aqueducts  which  once  stretched  from  the  cool 
fountains  of  the  Sabine  Hills  to  the  city,  and  conveyed  their 
water  thither,  giving  Rome  pure  drinking  fluid,  and  supply- 
ing, doubtless,  its  great  baths. 

These  great  aqueducts  are  other  monuments  of  the  wealth 
and  wonders  of  the  ancient  city  ;  lor  here  is  one,  the  Aqua 
Mareia,  constructed  b.  c.  146,  which  stretched  its  arches  of 
masonry  away  out  to  the  Sabine  Mountains,  a  distance  of 
fifty-six  miles  ;  while  the  Aqua  Claudia,  put  up  by  the  Em- 
peror Claudius  A.  D.  50,  was  over  fifty-eight  miles  in  length. 
The  water  to-day  in  Rome  is  esteemed  by  tourists  "  the  best 
in  Europe,"  can  be  drank  freely,  and  except,  of  course,  in 
very  hot  weather,  with  safety,     Down  in  the  city  proper  the 


PICTURESQUE    VIEWS.  251 

Trevi  water  is  esteemed  the  best:  At  the  Hotel  Constanzi, 
being  on  higher  ground,  we  were  furnished  with  Marcia 
water,  from  the  same  source  that  the  okl  Romans  were 
served.  For  six  or  eight  miles,  stretched  over  the  Campagna, 
do  the  ruined  arches  mark  the  course  of  these  great  public 
works  of  the  Roman  emperors  ;  and  that  the  water  supply 
was  an  all-important  one  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  good  author- 
ities state  that,  when  all  the  aqueducts  were  in  operation  in 
Rome  (in  the  imperial  epoch),  the  supply  must  have  been 
fifty  million  cubic  feet  in  twenty-four  hours,  or  ten  times  the 
actual  supply  of  London  for  the  same  time.  Rome  is  to-day 
a  city  of  fountains  ;  you  find  them  at  every  turn  and  in 
every  square,  and  there  are  said  to  be  in  modern  Rome  over 
six  hundred,  while  ancient  Rome  boasted  of  thirteen  thou- 
sand. 

We  sat  and  looked  out  at  the  picturesque  ruins  of  the 
aqueducts,  which  are  so  romantic  in  the  real  landscape  as 
seen  against  the  Italian  sky  and  brown  hue  of  the  Cam- 
pagna, with  the  hills  behind  them,  and  generally  so  hard 
and  artificial  in  the  attempts  to  represent  them  in  pictures  ; 
and  realized,  as  we  did  so,  why  so  many  artists  attempt  the 
difficult  task  of  rendering  a  counterfeit  presentment  of  the 
beautiful  proportions  of  their  arcades  upon  the  canvas. 

We  pass  many  monumental  remains,  and  halt  near  one 
which  has  a  bas-relief  upon  it,  which  is  said  to  be  near  the 
spot  where  Seneca  was  put  to  death,  according  to  Tacitus, 
"  near  the  fourth  mile-stone,"  by  Nero's  orders  ;  here  is 
another  to  Lollius  Dionysius,  who,  it  seems,  was  a  banker 
in  the  Esquiline  quarter,  a  wealthy  man,  and  could  afford  to 
be  buried  upon  the  Appian,  and  have  a  good  monument ; 
then  there  is  another  to  the  Rabinius  family,  with  three 
sculptured  heads  upon  it ;  Quintius,  tribune  of  the  16th 
legion  ;  Demetrius,  a  wine  merchant,  and  so  one  succeeds 
the  other,  some  mere  masses  of  masonry,  which  time  has 
smoothed,  melted,  and  squeezed  into  an  irregular  slab  of 
stone,  with  a  few  indistinguishable  characters  upon  it,  and 


252  ST.    PAUL   EXTRA   MUKOS. 

otliors  more  slabs  of  conglomerate,  mixtures  of  lime,  pebbles, 
and  brick,  wliich  were  once  probably  sheathed  with  rich 
marbles,  long  since  plundered  to  build  the  temples  and 
palaces  of  those  who  came  upon  the  stage  of  life  so  long 
after  as  to  have  no  feeling  of  honor  for  the  unknown  sleep- 
ers whom  the  monuments  were  raised  above.  Enough  re- 
mains, however,  to  show  us  that  these  mausoleums  must 
have  been  grand  in  proportion  and  magnificent  in  design, 
some  as  fit  for  palaces  for  the  living  as  sepulchres  for  the 
dead,  for  at  the  sixth  mile-stone  are  the  remains  of  a  huge 
tomb  called  the  "  Round  Castle,"  and  which  was  said  to  be 
the  tomb  of  Messala  Corvinus,  a  poet,  and  friend  of  Horace. 
This  tomb,  which  is  larger  even  than  that  of  Ccecilia  Metella, 
was  also  transformed  into  a  fortress  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  is  now  in  ruins. 

The  Church  of  "  St.  Paul  Extra  Muros,"  as  it  is  called,  a 
building  of  modern  date,  inasmuch  as  it  was  completed  in 
1854,  stands  on  the  foundation  of  the  magnificent  basilica 
which  was  built  to  commemorate  the  martyrdom  of  the 
apos'le,  and  which  is  said  to  mark  the  site  of  the  place 
where  he  sufic-red  and  was  buried.  It  is  upon  the  edge  of 
the  Campagna,  and  in  a  part  much  affected  by  the  malaria, 
except  in  the  winter  months  ;  hence,  although  but  early  in 
June,  the  author  did  not  feel  like  devoting  too  much  time 
in  and  about  its  interesting  precincts.  The  first  sight  on  en- 
tering the  vast  interior  is  one  which  excites  an  involuntar}'" 
exclamation  of  admiration.  Entering  by  one  side  of  the 
transept,  you  look  down  the  vast  nave,  which  is  three  hun- 
dred and  six  feet  long  and  two  hundred  and  twenty-two  feet 
wide,  with  four  great  ranges  of  granite  pillars,  eighty  in 
number,  surmounted  by  mosaic  pictures  of  the  Popes,  a  most 
striking  and  magnificent  view.  An  enormous  amount  of 
wealth  is  piled  up  here  in  this  building,  the  result  of  con- 
tributions levied  on  all  Roman  Catholic  countries  ;  but,  being 
modern,  it  contains  but  very  few  historic  remains.  As  a 
superb  interior,  however,  the  effect  is  grand  and  imposing. 


A    MAGNIFICENT    MODERN    TEMPLE.  253 

A  great  arch  (a  regular  triumphal  arch  —  iu  a  chui'ch  — ) 
separates  the  nave  from  the  transept.  It  is  a  relic  of  the 
old  church,  and  was  built  by  the  Emperor  Honorius  in  440, 
has  elegant  mosaics  of  our  Saviour  and  the  apostles  above 
its  lofty  curve,  on  each  side.  Right  under  this  arch  stands 
tlie  baldachino,  whicli  is  a  sort  of  ornamental  cupola,  sup- 
ported by  four  elegant  alabaster  pillars,  which  were  pi'C- 
sented  by  Meheraet  Ali,  Pasha  of  Egypt,  —  so  it  will  be 
seen  the  Romish  Church  does  not  hesitate  to  incorporate  the 
gift  of  the  infidel  Saracen  into  its  holy  edifices  any  more 
than  the  marble  plundered  from  the  ancient  pagan.  Under 
the  baldachino  rose  the  altar,  and  beneath  is  said  to  repose 
the  great  apostle. 

Although  but  little  of  ancient  historic  interest  is  to  be 
found  here  to  claim  the  visitor's  attention,  he  cannot  but  be 
struck  with  the  amazing  richness  of  the  building,  and  the 
vast  amount  of  costly  workmanship  that  surrounds  him. 
The  elegant  malachite  altars,  presented  by  the  emperor  of 
Russia  ;  beautiful  chapels  ;  colossal  statues  of  saints  ;  ele- 
gant frescos  ;  the  five  great  aisles  ;  magnificent  colonnades, 
and  the  floor  of  elegant  jointed  and  polished  marble  ;  the 
elegantly  wi'ought  capitals  of  the  pillars  ;  the  richly  veined 
marbles  of  various  colors  with  which  the  walls  are  sheathed, 
—  all  show  that  modern  Romish  Christendom  poured  out  its 
millions  with  a  lavish  hand  to  replace  the  church  founded 
by  Constantino,  rebuilt  in  392,  and  which  had  stood  for  fif- 
teen centuries  a  monument  to  the  great  apostle  until  its 
destruction  by  fire  in  1823.  It  is  fresh,  dazzling,  and  ele- 
gant, a  modern  temple,  seeking  to  vie  with  those  of  more 
ancient  times,  and  as  such,  one  of  the  most  interesting  mon- 
uments in  Rome. 

The  real  mother  church  of  Rome,  that  of  which  the  Pope 
is  pastor,  is  not,  as  many  suppose,  St.  Peter's,  but  the 
Church  of  St.  John  Lateran  ;  which  has  so  much  of  a  history, 
and  the  title  it  now  bears,  perpetuating  as  it  does  the  name 
of  an  illustrious  Christian  and  a  celebrated  pagan,  gives  it 
such  an  interest,  that  we  cannot  leave  it  out. 


2.">4  coxstaxtixe's  cathedral. 

This  was  the  first  cathedral  of  Constantine,  and  it  was 
near  Trajan's  Pillar  that  the  emperor  came  forth,  abjured  his 
belief  iu  the  heathen  gods,  and  declared  himself  a  believer 
in  the  religion  of  Christ.  Here,  in  the  year  312,  the  power 
of  Polytheism  was  finally  broken,  the  religious  belief  that 
had  built  superb  temples  to  the  gods,  had  lived  for  centuries, 
that  liad  made  old  Rome  rich  in  architectural  wonders,  whose 
emblems  are  to  us  to-day  creations  of  beauty  that  we  vainly 
seek  to  rival,  —  here  its  power  was  broken  ;  and  that  of  the 
Prince  of  Peace  that  had,  despite  persecutions,  and  trials, 
and  oppressions,  flourished  and  increased,  received,  at  last 
imperial  recognition.  The  emperor  not  only  declared  that 
the  priests  of  the  Church  of  Christ  should  receive  the  same 
privileges  as  other  priests,  but  his  intention  of  building  a 
Christian  church  in  his  Lateran  palace  estate,  east  of  tlio 
Cojlian  Hill.  His  example  of  freedom  of  conscience  and 
toleration  was  forgotten  a  few  centuries  after,  when  popes 
came  to  reign  in  place  of  emperors. 

Constantino's  palace  estate  was  on  what  was  once  the 
property  of  an  old  Roman  family  called  Latcranus.  Latera- 
nus  had  been  expelled  from  the  senate,  exiled  from  Rome, 
but  afterwards  recalled,  and  finally  put  to  death  by  Nero, 
who  seized  his  property  ;  and  the  name  of  this  estate,  un- 
ju<5tly  acquired,  was  by  popular  voice  thus  perpetuated. 

So  much  for  historical  facts  ;  and  we  now  walk  up  to  the 
entrance  of  the  present  edifice,  of  course  by  no  means  that 
of  the  old  emperor.  His  church,  in  which  he  is  said  to 
have  labored  with  his  own  hands,  and  which  %vas  consecrated 
in  324,  stood  nearly  six  centuries,  but  it  was  thrown  down 
by  an  earthquake  in  896  ;  rebuilt  again  in  911,  when  it  was 
dedicated  to  St  John  the  Baptist,  and  was  described  by  Dante 
the  poet  as  a  glorious  building  ;  but,  four  hundred  years  after, 
in  1308,  it  was  almost  entirely  destroyed  by  fire.  It  was 
soon  after  rebuilt,  but  burned  down  again  in  1360  ;  then  the 
great  Petrarch  sang  of  its  departed  glories.  Pope  Urban  Y. 
was  determined  the  memorable  Christian  temple  should  live, 


A    STRUGGLE    "WITH    TIME.  255 

and  it  rose  under  his  hand  to  completion  again  in  IS^TO  ;  and 
the  present  church,  witli  a  mere  remnant  of  the  one  re- 
built in  911,  and  various  additions  and  alterations  by  differ- 
ent modern  popes,  is  all  they  have  remaining  of  Constantine's 
creation,  after  a  thousand  years'  struggle  with  time.  In 
fact,  all  that  really  remains  is  probably  tlie  site  of  the  first 
church,  though  I  doubt  not  that  some  accommodating  cice- 
rone, if  it  were  made  worth  his  while,  would  discover  for 
the  curious  visitor  the  foundation-stones  of  Constantine's 
cathedral  :  a  task  I  was  not  disposed  to  undertake.  Its 
historj',  it  will  be  seen,  is  like  other  Roman  monuments  of 
antiquity  ;  the  work  of  men's  labor,  ambition,  and  pride  is 
levelled  by  time  or  vandalism,  reared  again  to  fall  once  more 
upon  the  original  ruin,  till,  one  above  another,  we  have  his- 
toric strata  of  masonry  and  architecture. 

We  entered  the  church  by  a  portico,  passing  a  bad  statue 
of  Henry  IV.,  and  found  ourselves  in  the  transept,  rich  in 
its  many-colored  and  beautiful  marbles  and  great  frescos 
above,  representing  scenes  in  the  life  of  Constantino.  The 
church  is  three  hundred  and  eighty-four  feet  in  length,  and 
the  nave,  which  is  grand  in  its  size  and  design,  has  five 
aisles  ;  but  the  magnificent  ancient  columns  have  been  cov- 
ered with  plaster  and  stucco  work,  and  huge  statues  of  the 
twelve  apostles  are  in  front  of  them  in  niches. 

Right  in  centre  of  the  transept  rises  a  very  beautiful 
baldachino,  or,  as  the  guide-books  call  it,  canopy,  —  they 
appear  to  be  about  the  same  thing.  It  is  a  sort  of  Gothic 
design,  supported  by  four  pillars  and  statues  at  the  corners, 
very  nicely  executed.  Below  this,  we  were  told  were  pre- 
served the  skulls  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  and  inside  the 
great  altar  they  pretend  to  have  a  table  at  which  St.  Peter 
celebrated  mass  ! 

In  this  transept  we  also  saw  the  fine  Altar  of  the  Sacra- 
ment, and  its  four  fluted  bronze  columns,  which  were,  accord- 
ing to  historical  documents  of  the  thirteenth  century,  brought 
from  Jerusalem  by  the  Emperor  Titus  after  his  destruction 


25G  ROTAL    CHAPELS. 

of  that  city.  This  cimrch  is  rich  in  beautiful  chapels  open- 
ing out  of  it,  which  belong'  to  various  noble  and  wealthy 
Italian  families.  Each  has  its  altar,  and  is  fitted  up  and 
decorated  according  to  the  taste  and  wealth  of  the  owners. 
The  Corsini  chapel  is  one  of  the  most  richly  fitted,  being 
elegantly  built  in  form  of  a  Greek  cross,  and  beautiful  in 
its  marble  decorations  and  sculpture.  The  elegant  altar- 
piece  is  in  mosaic  work,  the  walls  are  superbly  inlaid,  and  a 
bronze  statue  of  Pope  Clement  XII.,  of  this  family,  guards 
a  porphj'ry  sarcophagus  which  he  took  from  the  pagan  Pan- 
theon for  his  Christian  coffin.  The  sarcophagi  of  the  other 
members  of  the  Corsini  family  are  in  a  vault  beneath  this 
chapel.  Another  beautiful  chapel  is  that  of  the  Torlonia 
family,  rich  in  marble,  gilding,  and  frescos,  containing  a 
fine  statue  of  Piety  ;  and  over  its  magnificent  altar  hangs 
a  fine  picture  of  a  Descent  from  the  Cross. 

In  and  out  of  these  rich  and  ostentatious  displays  of 
human  pride  the  visitor  passes  till  he  is  surfeited  with  the 
parade  of  marbles,  altar-pieces,  crucifixions,  and  monuments. 
A  two  hours'  visit  is  double  what  most  tourists  give  it,  and 
uidess  you  have  recourse  to  notes  and  memoranda,  you  will 
be  likely  to  carry  away  the  usual  confused  recollection  a 
tourist  does  after  following  a  cicerone  speaking  none  too 
perfect  English,  and  rattling  off"'  his  explanations  in  parrot- 
like style,  while  you  vainly  seek  in  your  guide-book  for  par- 
ticulars which  ought  to  be  there. 

I  preserve  two  extremely  pleasant  experiences  of  our 
visit  to  the  Lateran  distinctly  in  memory.  One  is  the  beau- 
tiful view  from  one  of  its  porticos,  at  one  end  of  which  is 
Constantino's  statue,  colossal  in  size,  said  to  have  been  dis- 
covered at  his  Batlis,  and  the  only  authentic  likeness  of  him. 
This  view  from  the  portico  takes  in  the  Alban  Hills  on  one 
side  and  the  Sabine  Mountains  on  the  other,  and  between, 
on  the  level  campagna,  j'ou  see  the  picturesque  and  ruined 
arches  of  the  aqueducts  in  tiie  distance  ;  nearer,  Rome, 
ancient  and  modern,  is  below  us,  —  all  forming  a  most  inter- 
esting picture. 


THE    SAXTA    SCALA.  257 

The  other  experience  is  the  fine  old  Cloister  of  the  Mon- 
astery, into  which  the  custodian  takes  you  by  a  side-door  — 
a  beautiful,  antique-looking  inclosure,  surrounded  by  ancient 
arches  that  are  supported  by  twisted  or  fluted  columns,  sur- 
mounted by  a  frieze  of  fine  old  colored  marbles.  This 
cloister  was  built  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  from  beneath 
its  shadowy  arches  you  look  out  upon  the  courtyard  it 
incloses,  which  is  rich  with  wild  roses  and  fragrant  flowers, 
and  among-  them  was  a  curious  circular  well,  adorned  with 
crosses  and  carvings,  a  production  of  the  sixth  or  eighth 
century.  This  quiet  old  sanctuary  had  the  very  odor  of  reli- 
gious meditation  about  it  in  all  its  harmonious  lines  of  grace- 
ful architecture. 

"  And  what  is  this  ?  "  asked  we  one  day,  as  our  carriage, 
which  at  last  we  allowed  to  be  driven  from  point  to  point  by 
our  guide  at  his  own  will  on  a  siglit-seeing  excursion, 
halted,  and  we  entered  a  building  and  found  ourselves  upon 
a  marble  floor  from  which  ascended  a  central  and  two  side 
flights  of  stairs.  But  a  second  glance  told  us  at  once,  if  the 
guide  had  not  promptly  answered,  "  The  Santa  Scala,  — 
the  Holy  Staircase,  Messieurs." 

An  antiquity  indeed  is  this  celebrated  flight  of  steps,  if 
not  an  authenticitj',  and  I  was  glad  to  look  upon  the  twin 
relic,  if  it  may  be  so  expressed,  of  the  bronze  statue  of  St. 
Peter,  for  thoy  were  ahvays  associated  together  in  my  mind 
from  the  wearing  out  they  received  from  the  touch  of  the 
faithful,  — tlie  great  bronze  toe  of  the  statue  from  constant 
kissing,  and  this  holy  staircase,  deeply  worn  by  the  knees 
of  devout  pilgrims. 

For  fifteen  hundred  years  these  steps  have  been  piously 
reverenced  by  the  Papal  Church  as  being  those  which  our 
Saviour  ascended  from  the  house  of  Pilate  in  Jerusalem  after 
trial  ;  they  were  brought  to  Rome  by  Helena,  mother  of  the 
Emperor  Constantino,  in  the  year  326. 

The  entrance  hall,  or  portico,  whence  these  steps  ascend, 
has  three  lofty  arches.  On  each  side  of  the  principal  one, 
17 


2j8  ascending  the  holy  stairs. 

beneath  wliich  is  the  lioly  staircase,  are  two  fine  marble 
groups,  one  representing"  Judas  betraying  his  Master  with 
u  kiss,  and  the  other  said  to  be  "  Ecce  Homo,"  although 
the  inscription  upon  the  pedestal  gives  no  indication  to  that 
effect.  Tlie  steps  themselves  are  twenty-eight  in  number, 
and  are  never  profaned  by  footstep,  being  ascended  only 
upon  the  knees  by  the  devotees,  who  receive  certain  indul- 
gences from  the  church  after  having  performed  the  act,  and 
paid  for  it ;  which  latter  act  I  saw  one  poor  exhausted-look- 
ing woman  do  with  a  whole  handful  of  copper  coin,  which 
she  threw  in  through  a  grating,  after  reaching  the  top  of 
the  staircase  ;  rising  with  difficulty  to  her  feet  from  the 
tiresome  knee  journey. 

The  way  the  pilgrimage  is  performed  is  as  follows  :  The 
penitents,  taking  a  rosary  in  their  hands,  kneel  upon  the 
first  of  two  marble  steps,  say  a  prayer  at  each,  and  then 
come  to  a  broad  landing-place,  on  each  side  of  which  are 
fonts  of  holy  water,  from  which,  having  moistened  their 
fingers,  they  make  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  then  proceed, 
rosary  in  hand,  to  the  lower  one  of  the  holy  steps.  These 
are  marble,  covered  with  wood,  with  the  exception  of  small 
apertures,  rimmed  with  brass,  through  which  a  spot  of  the 
step  may  be  touched  by  the  lips  ;  and  it  is  averred  that  the 
covering  has  to  be  renewed  yearly.  Up  these  steps,  one 
by  one,  upon  the  knees,  the  worshipper  ascends,  kissing 
each  step  through  the  aperture  as  he  comes  upon  it,  and 
saying  a  prayer  over  his  rosary  before  leaving  it  for  the 
next.  About  three-quarters  of  an  hour  is  consumed  in  get- 
ting to  the  top  in  the  prescribed  manner,  and  I  noticed  that 
the  wood  covering  was  well  worn  by  the  knees  of  the  wor- 
shippers, aTid  the  brass  rims  of  the  apertures  had  been  pol- 
ished to  glittering  brightness  by  the  frequent  contact  of 
their  lips. 

]\Iartin  Luther  once  began  the  ascent  of  this  staircase, 
step  after  step,  in  tlie  usual  manner,  painfully,  upon  his 
knees ;   but  when  half-way  up,  he  suddenly  seemed  to  hear 


TEMPLE    OF    VESTA.  259 

the  whisper  of  a  divine  voice  say,  "  The  just  shall  live  by 
faith,"  and  he  rose  to  his  feet,  descended,  and  left  the  place. 

The  dark,  vaulted  ceiling  above  the  staircase  is  covered 
with  frescos,  and  at  the  top  is  an  altar,  above  which  rises 
the  scene  of  the  crucifixion.  On  either  side  of  the  holy 
staircase  are  others,  which  we  ascended  in  the  usual  manner 
without  ceremony,  and  from  the  top  of  which  we  were  per- 
mitted to  look  through  a  grating  into  the  Sanctum  Sanc- 
torum, —  so  holy  a  place  that  none  less  than  the  Pope  can 
officiate  at  its  altar. 

It  is  a  picturesque  old  interior,  with  Gothic  arches,  twisted 
columns,  and  ornamented  ceiling,  and  contains  an  altar 
upheld  by  porphyry  columns,  above  which  is  a  silver  casket 
containing  relics. 

We  descended,  and  gratified  a  round,  jolly-looking  monk 
so  much  by  buying  some  of  his  card  photographs  of  the 
place,  that  when  he  smiled  and  bade  us  adieu,  he  seemed 
more  like  an  English  Boniface  in  a  dark  cowl  than  a 
ghostly  brother  of  the  adjoining  convent. 

I  knew  the  little  temple  of  Vesta  the  moment  we  halted 
by  it,  and  had  seen  it  so  often  reproduced  in  miniature  in  the 
fancy-goods  stores  at  home,  that  here  in  reality  it  seemed 
like  an  exaggerated  inkstand.  It  is  a  beautiful  little  cir- 
cular building  of  the  time  of  Trajan,  consisting  of  a  sort 
of  inner  core,  only  twenty-six  feet  in  circumference,  sur- 
rounded by  an  outer  perfect  circle  of  beautiful  Corinthian 
columns,  each  thirty-two  feet  in  height,  the  outer  circle 
being  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  feet  in  circumference. 

One  of  the  pillars  is  broken  off  near  the  base,  and  the 
ancient  roof  of  this  temple,  long  since  gone,  is  replaced  by 
an  incongruous  one  of  red  tiles  ;  while  our  idol,  as  to  its 
being  a  temple  of  Vesta,  is  thrown  down  by  the  antiqua- 
ries, who  declare  it  to  be  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  more 
likely  that  of  Hercules. 

Not  far  from  here  are  many  interesting  points.  Our 
guide  took  us  to  all  that  now  remains  of  the  old  Palatine 


260  THE    BRIDGE    OF    nORATIUS. 

Bridge,  now  called  Ponle  Rotlo.  A  modern  suspension 
bridge  connects  with  what  I'eniains  of  the  arches  of  an 
ancient  bridge  which  was  carried  away  by  an  inundation  ; 
but  it  is  interesting  to  know,  when  you  get  over  as  near  the 
centre  of  this  bridge  as  you  can,  that  you  stand  over  the 
site  of  the  bridge  begun  by  ^niilius  Lepidus  b.  c.  180,  and 
finished  by  Scipio  Africauus  forty  years  after;  and  from 
liere  the  guide  will  point  out  fragments  that  look  like  rocks 
above  the  water,  which  is  all  that  remains  of  the  oldest 
bridge  in  Rome,  —  the  structure  built  by  Ancus  Martins, 
B.  c.  639,  and  one  interesting  to  every  schoolboy  who  has 
read  or  declaimed  Macaulay's  ballad  of  ancient  Rome, 
"  Horatius  ;  "  for  this  is  all  what  remains  of  the  bridge 
which  Iloratius  Codes  and  his  two  brave  companions  de- 
fended against  the  whole  Etruscan  army  under  Lars  Por- 
sena.      Iloratius,  in  the  ballad,  says  to  his  consul : 

"  Hew  down  the  bridge,  Sir  Consul, 
With  all  the  speed  ye  may; 
I,  with  two  more  to  help  me, 
"Will  hold  the  foe  in  play. 
In  yon  strait  path  a  thousand 
May  well  be  stopped  by  three." 

And  the  three  defended  the  passage  and  "kept  the 
bridge  "  till  it  was  hewn  down  beneath  them,  leaving  the 
sweeping  Tiber  a  barrier  between  Rome  and  the  ad- 
vancing foe. 

Not  far  from  this  point  we  went  down  near  the  river's 
bank  to  see  that  wonderful  work  of  ancient  Rome,  the 
Cloaca  3Ia.mma  (Largest  Sewer).  It  speaks  well  for  the 
sewer-builders  of  ancient  Rome  that  their  work,  after 
twenty-four  hundred  years,  should  still  be  performing  the 
functions  for  which  it  was  originally  intended.  There  is 
little  to  be  seen  at  the  point  we  visited  except  three  con- 
centric courses  of  stone  in  the  form  of  an  arch,  like  what 
any  one  would  suppose  the  outlet  of  a  large  drain  to  re- 
semble.    This  great  sewer  extended  from  the  Forum  to  the 


GUIDO'S    AURORA,  261 

Tiber,  and  was  written  of  by  Pliny  as  "an  immense  work," 
and  he  states  that  against  earthquakes  and  the  assaults  of 
time  "the  work  of  Tarquin  remains  impregnable."  And 
now,  more  than  a  thousand  years  after  Pliny,  still  the 
Cloaca  "remains  impregnable." 

Rome's  palaces  are  rich  in  art,  and  two  which  no  tourist 
omits  are  the  Barberini  and  the  Rospigliosi.  The  chief 
attraction  of  the  latter  is  the  great  picture,  Guido's  Aurora, 
a  poetically  treated  subject  familiar  to  all.  Apollo  in  his 
car,  surrounded  by  the  twelve  liours  hand  in  hand,  and 
preceded  by  a  cherub  bearing  the  torch  of  day,  starts  across 
the  heavens  to  begin  the  day.  This  picture  is  on  the  ceil- 
ing of  a  small  pavilion,  or  casino,  as  it  is  called,  which  we 
approached  through  a  beautiful  garden  over  a  walk  bordered 
by  lemon-trees  laden  with  the  yellow  fruit. 

In  the  beautiful  tints  of  the  clouds  with  the  hues  of  the 
approaching  light,  the  spirited  action  of  the  horses  of  the 
car  of  Phoebus,  as  they  start  off  upon  their  aerial  journey, 
the  graceful  poses  of  the  figures  that  surround  the  car, 
and  that  of  Apollo  himself,  as  he  bends  forward  against  the 
morning  breeze  that  blows  back  his  flowing  drapery,  the 
exquisite  and  harmonious  blending  of  colors  is  so  smooth 
and  perfect  that,  as  you  continue  to  gaze  upward  at  the 
picture,  you  can  almost  imagine  you  are  looking  at  the  clouds, 
and  that  the  glorious  car  will  whirl  away  on  its  mission  to 
open  day  to  the  world  below,  while  you  are  looking  at  it. 

It  is  somewhat  tiresome  to  the  lover  of  art  who  may 
wish  to  study  a  painting  like  this  for  any  length  of  time,  to 
be  compelled  to  gaze  directly  upward,  unless,  perhaps,  he 
may  be  able  to  do  so  from  a  couch.  An  arrangement  of 
small  mirrors  upon  a  table  below  enables  the  spectator  to 
view  the  reflection  of  this  grand  tableau  without  the  fatigue 
which  a  lengthened  upward  gaze  inflicts,  and  copies  by 
diflerent  artists  were  placed  about  the  room  for  sale,  there 
being  generally  one  or  two  engaged  in  copying  the  picture, 
it  being  one  that  is  both  popular  and  salable. 


262  GUIDO    AND    RAPHAEL. 

The  reader  is  happily  spared  anj'  description  of  the  im- 
mense Barberiiii  Palace,  for  the  author,  save  the  picture 
gallery,  saw  comparatively  little  of  it.  Such  world- 
reuowued  pictures,  however,  as  Guide's  Beatrice  Cenci  and 
Raphael's  Fornarina,  are  creations  which,  once  seen,  one 
remembers  a  lifetime,  and  whose  wonderful  effects  are  such 
as  to  render  description  tame,  and  the  effort  to  convey 
them  powerless. 

That  simple,  sad,  but  beautiful  face  of  Beatrice,  upon 
which  deep  sorrow  and  exquisite  loveliness  are  united  ;  the 
large,  lustrous  brown  eyes  ;  the  light  hair  falling  from  the 
head  draper}^ ;  the  sad  expression  and  history  written  in 
ever}'  lineament,  are  indescribable  and  strikingly  impressive. 
The  legend  that  Guido  painted  it  in  prison  the  night  before 
her  execution,  and  her  sad  story  and  tragic  fate,  lend  addi- 
tional interest  to  the  picture. 

The  Fornarina,  by  Raphael,  is  the  figure  of  a  beautiful 
woman  uncovered  to  the  waist.  She  has  large,  dark,  and 
lustrous  eyes,  rich,  dark  hair,  around  which  a  shawl  is 
twisted,  a  beautiful  neck  and  bust,  and  is  in  all  respects  an 
elegant  figure  in  the  full  bloom  of  womanhood,  and  is  said 
to  be  a  beautiful  woman  of  low  birth  who  was  beloved  by 
the  artist.  The  picture  is  certainly  the  representation  of  a 
beautiful  woman,  and  calculated  to  remove  some  of  the  sad 
reflections  excited  by  a  perhaps  too  lengthened  gaze  at  the 
picture  of  Beatrice  Cenci. 


THE    PIXCIAX    HILL.  263 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Difficult  indeed  is  the  task  to  finish  Rome,  hard  indeed 
the  necessity  to  leave  the  city  of  one's  longings,  with  its 
wonders  half  explored,  its  lessons  half  studied,  and  its 
monuments  with  but  brief  acquaintance.  But,  labor  as  the 
ordinary  tourist  may  in  the  brief  space  of  the  few  Aveeks 
generally  allowed,  if  he  be  anything  of  an  antiquarian,  a 
lover  of  art,  a  student  of  history,  or  he  who  delights  in 
reminiscences  of  the  past,  each  day  of  his  experience  will 
prove  to  him  how  inexhaustible  is  the  field  before  him. 

We  return  from  our  farewell  rides  to  the  Pincian,  whence 
we  ha.e  looked  down  upon  more  modern  Rome,  and  met 
the  modern  carriages  of  to-day,  with  their  gay  occupants  in 
Parisian  costume  chatting  and  laughing  gayly,  and  the 
promenading  crowds  with  their  odd  mixture  of  students  in 
cloaks  of  gray  or  sombre  colors,  with  a  sprinkling  of 
monks  and  beggars.  The  Pincian  Hill,  with  its  beautiful 
garden,  with  cypresses  and  pines,  elegant  plants  and 
flowering  shrubs,  and  pleasant  walks,  wlience  we  looked 
upon  the  city,  and  beyond  it  the  broad  canipagna,  —  the 
Pincian,  where  are  the  ornamental  bas-reliefs,  pretty  col- 
umns, fountains  in  cosy  nooks,  and  where  Rome's  modern 
aristocracy  disports  itself  of  an  afternoon,  —  the  Pincian, 
that  was  the  site  of  the  famous  villa  of  Lucullus,  who  won 
fame  and  wealth  in  his  campaigns  in  Asia,  and  entertained 
Cicero  and  Pompey  here  most  royally  and  extravagantly, 
and  from  the  terrace  of  which  we  took  a  new  view  of  St. 
Peter's  and  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo. 

Then  we  part  with  regret  from  the  old  Palatine,  with  its 
freshly  uncovered  ruins,  itself  the  very  foundation  of  Rome, 
a  concrete  mass  of  historic   rock  and   soil,  every  foot  of 


2G4  FAREWELL    TO   ROME. 

M-liicli  wo  walk  over  identified  witli  Eomc's  story  ;  and  at 
every  point,  gaze  where  we  will,  rise  shattered  fragments 
and  remnants  of  Rome's  history  and  glory.  AVe  tnust  take 
a  farewell  gaze  at  the  Colosseum,  enduring  monument  of 
luxury,  cruelty,  and  power,  the  Forum,  the  very  heart  of 
old  Rome,  and  stand  once  more  upon  the  hill  of  the  Capitol, 
look  over  the  Tarpeian  Rock  and  at  the  ruined  columns,  the 
great  triumphal  arches  slowly  yielding  to  the  tooth  of  time 
in  the  great  city  of  the  past,  where  art,  power,  and  great- 
jiess  existed,  that  left  their  impress  upon  the  world  which 
is  felt  even  to  this  day. 

You  feel  that  the  task  is  but  half  accomplished,  nay,  but 
scarce  begun,  there  are  so  many  more  ruins  to  be  explored, 
monuments  to  be  studied,  churches  to  be  visited,  sites  of 
historic  events  to  be  sought  out,  erroneous  impressions  to 
be  corrected,  antiquities  to  be  seen,  and  curious  researches 
to  be  made.  But  these  are  the  emotions  that  press  upon 
the  mind  of  all  who  become  interested  in  Rome,  and  who 
leave  it  as  a  mine  half  opened,  a  banquet  scarce  tasted,  or 
a  grand  volume  with  but  a  glance  at  its  pages.  Rome  is 
the  museum  of  the  world,  the  focal  point  of  interest  to  stu- 
dent, artist,  and  antiquary.  He  who  loves  what  is  beauti- 
ful, and  looks  with  admiration  upon  that  which  is  great, 
will  enter  the  portals  of  the  City  of  cities  eagerly,  linger 
there  long  and  lovingly,  and  depart  reluctantly, 

I  had  but  brief  time  for  shopping  in  Rome,  and,  as  a 
general  thing,  found  shopkeepers  there  like  other  Italians, 
ready  always  to  charge  a  foreigner  —  especially  an  Amer- 
ican —  nearly  double  the  price  they  intended  to  take.  The 
gay-colored  Roman  scarfs,  cameo  cuttings,  bronze  designs 
of  Roman  ruins,  Etruscan  jewelry,  mosaics,  and  stone  cam- 
eos, are  the  articles  that  tourists  buy  as  the  portable  nov- 
elties of  the  city.  The  wax  or  composition  beads  known 
as  Roman  pearls  are  another ;  but  there  are  two  kinds  of 
these,  a  genuine  and  a  counterfeit.  The  latter,  although 
pretty  to  look  at,  have   an   uiqileasant  way  of  half  melting 


FROM    THE    SUBLIME    TO   THE    EIDICULOUS.  265 

upon  a  lady's  neck  by  the  heat,  and  inclosing-  her  in  a  neck- 
lace of  paste.  The  sculptors'  and  painters'  studios  claim 
the  attention  of  many  Americans  visiting  Rome  ;  and  while 
some  excellent  works  of  art  and  beautiful  copies  are  ob- 
tained, it  is  also  true  that  some  atrocious  caricatures,  espe- 
cially of  the  painter's  art,  are  shipped  from  Eome  to  the 
United  States,  that  are  not  worth  the  expense  of  trans- 
portation. 

It  is  rather  a  sudden  descent  from  a  flig-ht  of  the  imagina- 
tion, after  you  have  passed  by  temples  and  beneath  tri- 
umphal arches,  and  when  you  are  tramping  over  a  dusty 
road,  thinking  that  this  ground  once  shook  beneath  the  tread 
of  Caesar's  buskined  legions,  to  have  your  meditations 
rudely  disturbed  by  a  voice  from  one  side  of  the  causeway, 
"  Blag  yer  boots,  sir  ?  " 

You  start  as  waking  from  a  dream.  Is  it  not  a  dream, 
and  did  you  hear  aright  ?  By  the  side  of  the  street  kneels 
a  swarthy  Italian  boy  :  his  jet-black  eyes  sparkle  beneath 
his  ragged  cap,  as  he  holds  out  a  veritable  shoe-brush  in  one 
hand  and  points  to  just  such  a  shoe-box  as  you  have  seen 
the  shoeblacks  of  London  and  New  York  use,  and  again  saj's, 
"  Blag  yer  boots?"  The  fellow's  limited  stock  of  English 
was  successful,  and  I  shook  off  the  last  dust  of  Rome  from 
my  feet  under  the  manipulations  of  a  Roman  bootblack. 

Rome  is  left  behind,  far  behind  ;  and  from  the  portal  of  the 
raih'oad  station,  as  we  emerge  in  Venice,  we  see  the  group  of 
gondolas  —  water-omnibuses  to  the  hotels  —  crowded  round 
the  landing,  and  get  the  fresh  breeze  of  the  Adriatic,  grate- 
ful and  cool  after  a  long  and  somewhat  fatiguing  ride. 

Again,  on  the  luxurious  cushions  of  our  little  water-car- 
riage, the  lust}'  arms  of  the  gondoliers  are  sending  us  for- 
ward upon  the  Grand  Canal,  beneath  the  tall  palaces  tliat 
lift  their  lofty  walls  from  its  bosom. 

"  Hotel  Danieli,  Monsieur  ?  "  inquires  the  gondolier. 

"  No,"  (forewarned,  forearmed.)  The  Danieli  has  a 
broad  piazza,  or  expanse  of  stone,  a  promenade  directly  in 


2G6  VENICE. 

front  of  it,  the  resort  of  fruit-sellers,  gondoliers,  loungers, 
and  promenadcrs,  who  laugh,  talk,  sing,  chatter  and  patter, 
far  past  midnight,  and  begin  very  early  the  next  morning  : 
so  that,  during  the  season  of  open  windows,  one  may  easily 
foncy  himself  sleeping  in  the  street,  or  rather  trying  to  ; 
fi>r,  unless  accustomed  to  slumber  upon  the  Exchange,  or  in 
the  midst  of  a  town-meeting,  the  enjoyment  of  such  refresh- 
ment will  be  found  impossible. 

"  Grand  Hotel,"  —  an  hotel  altered  from  two  palaces 
(they  are  all  altered  from  palaces  in  Venice),  on  the  Grand 
Canal,  opposite  the  Church  of  the  Santa  Maria  della  Saluta. 

The  waters  of  the  canal  plash  up  to  the  marble  steps  of 
tliis  house,  and  we  sit  in  the  deep  windows  of  our  salon  be- 
neatli  the  shelter  of  Venetian  awnings,  and  look  down  upon 
boats  passing  and  repassing  on  the  tide  beneath  us.  From 
the  rear  of  the  .house,  through  narrow  streets  and  tortuous 
alleys,  breaking  out  every  now  and  then  into  open  squares, 
the  pedestrian  may  reach  the  Rialto,  the  Piazza  San  Marco, 
or  other  points  of  interest.  Curious  indeed  is  the  expe- 
rience of  going  from  point  to  point  on  foot  in  Venice,  which 
one  may  do  if  he  will  make  the  necessary  detours.  You 
pass  through  streets  scarce  ten  feet  in  width,  with  high 
buildings  on  either  side,  —  effectual  protection  against  the 
rays  of  the  sun.  Every  now  and  then  the  street  is  crossed 
by  a  canal,  over  which  will  be  thrown  a  light  iron  or  arched 
stone  bridge ;  and,  as  you  halt  upon  it  in  crossing,  you  may 
look  between  the  tall  buildings,  up  and  down  the  watery 
highway,  that  has  none  of  the  poetry  of  the  "  Blue  Adriatic  " 
about  it,  but  reminds  one,  in  its  sombre  shade,  of  a  stream 
of  ink  rather  tharl  water. 

Here,  on  these  side  canals,  one  sees  some  of  the  domestic 
and  every-day  life  of  the  Venetians,  —  that  is,  such  of  it  as  is 
out  of  doors.  Water-boats  are  pumping  drinking-water  into 
somebod^'^'s  residence,  replenishing  the  great  tank  kept  to 
contain  it ;  a  garbage-boat  is  receiving  its  unsavory  con- 
tents  at  back  doors  ;  another   rusty  old  boat  has  brought 


EXPLORING    THE    BY-WAYS.  267 

homo  to  a  house  a  day's  marketing,  which  seems  to  consist 
chiefly  of  onions  and  vegetables  ;  and  anotlier,  laden  with 
stone  and  bricks,  is  being  laboriously  sculled  along  by  a 
single  grayheaded  old  oarsman.  Over  a  bridge,  and  j'our 
narrow  street  goes  on  a  score  of  feet,  and  then  'may  end  at 
a  blank  wall,  if  j'ou  have  neglected  to  swerve  to  the  open- 
ing that  came  into  it  at  right  or  left,  but  which  appeared  to 
lead,  as  it  sometimes  does  for  a  short  distance,  in  an  oppo- 
site direction  to  that  in  which  you  desire  to  go  ;  or  you  fol- 
low on,  having,  as  you  supposed,  left  the  Grand  Canal  behind 
you,  and  come  out,  after  various  windings  and  bridge-cross- 
ings, upon  its  shore  again,  some  fifty  or  sixty  rods  above 
or  below  where  you  started  from.  Some  of  these  narrow 
streets  are  far  from  being  agreeable,  either  to  the  eye  or 
to  the  olfactories. 

Filthy  wine  and  beer  shops,  reeking  with  fumes  of  vile 
tobacco ;  cheap  cook-shops,  where  dirt  and  garlic  reign  tri- 
umphant, in  neighborhoods  where  tinkers'  shops,  dirt}'  meat, 
and  vegetable  stores  stand  side  by  side  with  old-clothes 
shops,  out  of  which  peer  the  sparkling  black  eyes  and  unmis- 
takable nasal  organ  of  the  Hebrew,  are  crossed  by  catials  that 
are  narrow  and  odoriferous,  and  upon  which  garbage  and 
straw  are  floating  about.  In  the  doorways  are  old  people 
and  ragged  children,  who  gaze  wonderingly  at  you  as  you 
hasten  along,  till  the  alley  strikes  into  an  open  square  down 
which  the  garish  sun  is  pouring,  and  in  the  middle  of  which 
is  a  well,  with  half  a  dozen  women  waiting  about  it,  with 
copper  buckets  or  kettles  for  a  supply  of  water. 

On  first  arrival  in  Venice,  the  tourist  from  the  interior, 
upon  entering  his  apartments,  the  windows  of  which,  if 
they  look  out  upon  the  Grand  Canal,  are  sure  to  be  thrown 
wide  open,  is  more  than  likely  to  inquire,  "What  is  this 
smell  ?  "  somewhat  dank  or  musty,  not  dreaming  it  is  but 
the  scent  of  sea-water  to  his  unaccustomed  olfactories,  which 
he  very  soon  ceases  to  notice.  But  as,  on  landing  from  my 
first  sea-voyage,  I  inhaled  w'ith  pleasure  the   fragrance  of 


268  GONDOLIERS. 

green  turf  and  the  welcome  earthy  perfume  of  the  land,  so 
was  there  a  similar  sensation  on  visiting  the  Public  Garden 
of  Venice,  a  spot  a  short  distance  above  the  Arsenal,  where 
the  novel  sight  of  green  turf  and  trees,  and  the  scent  of 
grass,  flowers,  and  herbage,  are  grateful  to  the  senses,  after 
long  experience  of  gazing  upon  marble  and  masonry,  and 
inhaling  the  saline  breeze  that  comes  up  the  canal. 

I'had  seen  nearly  all  the  sights  of  Venice  which  tourists 
visit,  and  enjoyed  in  reality  the  pictures  of  imagination,  and 
was  dreamily  floating  down  the  canal  with  a  friend  in  his 
private  gondola,  manned  by  two  stalwart  gondoliers.  A  fan- 
ciful, fresh-water,  sailor  uniform  of  blue  breeches  reaching 
to  their  knees  ;  white  shirt,  with  broad,  blue-edged  collar, 
and  Leghorn  hat,  with  broad,  blue  ribbons  with  floating 
ends  ;  black  shoes,  and  spotless  white  stockings  reaching  to 
the  bottoms  of  the  pantaloons,  which  were  loosely  fastened 
just  below  the  knee  with  three  little  silver  buttons;  sailor- 
knotted  neckerchiefs  loose  about  the  broad,  ample  collar ; 
two  lightly-touched  olive  complexions ;  deep,  dark  eyes, 
wavy  hair,  and  pencilled  moustaches,  —  and  you  have  a  pic- 
ture of  my  friend's  gondoliers  :  fellows  whose  muscular 
arms,  by  an  imperceptible  turn  of  the  oar,  would  write  an 
elegant  calligraphic  flourish  in  the  water,  which  would  flow 
swiftly  past  you  in  wreaths,  foam,  bubbles,  and  water-lines, 
as  graceful  as  smoke  in  the  summer  atmosphere.  The  regu- 
lar rise  and  fall  of  their  dripping  oars  was  as  rhythmic  in 
cadence  as  perfect  poesy,  when  they  shot  their  graceful 
craft  down  the  Grand  Canal,  or  wound  in  and  out  the 
aqueous  highways  that  thread  the  ancient  city  ;  their  warn- 
ing shouts,  ere  rounding  the  angle  of  a  palace  wall,  as  mu- 
sical as  the  notes  of  an  operatic  tenor. 

There  is  no  better  place,  no  more  fitting  time,  for  dreamy, 
poetic  imagination,  for  luxurious  laziness,  for  misty  musing, 
sentimental  castle-building,  for  realization  of  youthful  ro- 
mance on  a  moonlight  evening,  than  in  one  of  these  easy 
water-cradles,  like  the  one  in  which  we  were  reclining,  with 


SCENES    ON    THE    GRAND    CANAL.  269 

its  perfumed  morocco  cushions,  its  pretty  awning  with 
silken  hangings  and  lattices,  in  place  of  the  black,  ugly- 
looking  sort  of  cabs  of  the  ordinary  gondola  ;  while  the 
soft  matting  of  colored  wools  beneath  our  feet,  the  padded 
and  cushioned  sides  of  that  part  of  the  boat  in  which  we 
sat,  rendered  it  a  cosy  nest  in  which  one  could  recline  at 
ease  in  almost  any  position  he  chose  to  assume. 

We  had  watched  a  procession  of  gondolas  with  colored 
lanterns  float  down  from  the  Piazza,  headed  by  one  with 
guitars  that  were  tinkling  a  melody  that  sounded  like  musi- 
cal water-drops  amid  the  swish  of  oars,  and  had  sent  off 
with  a  dozen  copper  pieces  the  two  beggars  who  row  round 
in  a  gondola  playing  a  hand-organ,  and  were  watching  the 
reflection  of  the  tall  palaces  in  the  glassy  mirror  beneath  the 
kindly  shadow  which  rendered  decay  picturesque  and  the 
hue  of  age  and  green  rime  of  neglect  invisible  ;  and  the  sil- 
ver atmosphere  seemed  to  softly  descend  from  the  most 
lovely  blue  that  ever  colored  the  vault  of  heaven. 

The  tall,  elaborately  ornamented  facades  of  the  palaces  of 
old  Venetian  families  whose  very  names  are  forgotten,  rose 
like  ghosts  of  the  past :  here  and  there  lights  sparkled  in 
the  deep  windows  ;  and  at  one,  more  brilliant  than  the  rest, 
was  a  gay  group  on  the  marble  steps,  bidding  adieus  beside 
the  two  tall  vases  at  either  side,  ere  stepping  into  the  fairy 
craft  that  awaited  them,  —  not  lords  and  ladies  of  the 
Venetian  court,  with  purple  and  velvet  and  silks,  swords 
and  stilettos,  but,  alas  for  imagination  in  these  degenerate 
daj^s  !  only  a  party  of  tourists,  with  tourist-pouches  slung 
across  their  shoulders,  and  parasols  and  fans  in  hand,  leav- 
ing their  hotel,  once  a  palace,  to  be  sure,  but  now  reduced 
to  baser  uses. 

We  glide  down  close  to  the  stone  steps  that  are  at  the 
foot  of  the  platform,  upon  which  stands  the  fanciful  and  su- 
perb Church  of  Santa  Maria  della  Saluta,  whose  huge 
arches  and  majestic  dome  rise  like  a  marble  mountain  above 
the  canal,  and  our  gondoliers  rest  on  their  oars  just  beyond 


270  ITALIAN  MUSIC. 

it  for  a  few  moments  ;  for  a  gondolier  load  of  students  halts 
at  the  hotel  opposite  to  sing  to  the  foreign  guests,  and  we 
to  listen  to  the  sweet  music  of  their  Italian  voices. 

It  always  seems  as  if  there  was  a  liquid  music  in  the 
Italian  voice  —  at  least  in  that  of  singers  —  which  is  not 
possessed  by  those  of  other  nationalities.  "  Viva  Italia, 
viva  el  Rey !  "  is  the  patriotic  song  that  brings  out  sweet 
tenor  and  vigorous  bass  in  harmonious  unison  at  the  close 
of  each  stanza  ;  and  then,  after  a  brief  pause,  they  drop 
into  the  delicious  song  of  "  Santa  Lucia,"  in  which  their 
voices  blend  together  like  the  strains  of  a  huge  music-box, 
as  tlie  chorus  comes  floating  across  the  water  to  us.  There 
is  a  momentary  hush  as  the  last  chord  ceases  ;  then  vocifer- 
ous English  and  American  applause  and  clapping  of  hands 
from  the  hotel  piazza  and  windows,  and,  we  are  sure,  a  plen- 
tiful shower  of  franc-pieces.  A  nod  to  our  boatmen,  and 
the  gondola  shoots  away  in  obedience  to  the  graceful  and 
noiseless  thrusts  of  their  skilfully  wielded  oar-blades. 

And  now  come  in  view  the  Columns  of  St.  Theodore  and 
the  Winged  Lion,  standing  out  black  and  upright  in  the 
moonlight,  with  the  figures  upon  their  summits  sharply  cut 
against  the  blue  moonlit  sky,  as  we  lie  gazing  at  them  from 
our  luxurious  couch. 

AVe  look  through  the  little  square  of  the  Piazzetta  that 
leads  to  the  great  Square  of  St.  Mark  beyond,  —  on  one 
side  the  Doge's  Palace,  with  its  short,  thick  columns  and 
pointed  arches,  upholding  another  row  more  light  and  grace- 
ful, crowned  with  quatrefoils  ;  on  the  other,  beneath  the 
colonnades,  sparkle  lights  from  the  cafes,  and  beyond  the 
square  is  alive  with  them  beneath  the  porticos  ;  and  the 
shadows  falling  from  the  buildings  sharply  define  one  side 
of  the  broad  pavement  in  the  bright  moonlight,  as  though 
shaded  by  crayon.  Gondolas  are  arriving  and  departing  ; 
groups  landing  for  a  half  hour's  lounge  in  the  Piazza,  to  sip 
coffee  and  smoke  cigarettes,  or  eat  ices,  in  front  of  the  cafes 
in  the  square,  while  the  luxurious  melody  of  Strauss  waltzes 


THE  HEAET  OF  THE  YENETIAX  KEPUBLIC.      271 

from  the  band  fills  the  old  historic  iuclosure  with  delicious 
strains. 

The  scenes  of  power,  cruelty,  and  greatness  that  have 
been  enacted  here,  between  the  two  tall  columns  that  stand, 
sentinel-like,  upon  the  shore,  are  in  themselves  a  history  ; 
for  here  once  rose  the  fearful  scaffold  upon  which  the 
masked  executioner  swung  his  broad  blade,  in  obedience  to 
the  decrees  of  the  fearful  Council.  Here  Cooper,  in  his 
"  Bravo  of  Venice,"  locates  the  final  scene  of  his  story  :  — 
"  Between  the  lofty  pedestals  of  St.  Theodore  and  the 
Winged  Lion  lay  the  block,  the  axe,  the  basket,  and  the 
sawdust,  —  the  usual  accompaniments  of  justice  in  that 
day.     By  their  side  stood  the  executioner." 

A  little  black  mass  of  gondoliers  and  loungers  now  occupied 
the  very  spot,  forming  a  circle  round  a  fellow  who  stood  upon 
a  stool  haranguing  them,  and  oflering  some  cheap  article  for 
sale.  The  music  from  the  band  suddenly  ceased,  the  chatter 
of  many  voices  in  the  Square  and  the  patter  of  many  feet  upon 
the  pavement  became  audible,  and  the  deep  boom  of  the  bell 
came  from  the  great  clock-tower,  as  the  bronze  giants  upon 
its  summit  struck  with  their  hammers  the  sonorous  metal. 
Our  conversation  naturally  turned  upon  the  former  greatness 
of  the  Bride  of  the  Adriatic,  her  commercial  power,  wealth, 
and  pride,  —  from  the  climax  of  her  power  and  splendor  at 
the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century  till,  in  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth,  she  lost  Cyprus,  Cundia,  and  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus, and  her  commercial  prosperity  gradually  dimin- 
ished. Then  came  Bonaparte  as  conqueror,  wrenchcr  open 
of  inquisitorial  prison-cells,  and  breaker  of  tyrannical  fetters 
in  1797  ;  then  the  revolution  of  1848,  the  hated  Austrian 
yoke  in  ]  819,  under  which  she  chafed  for  sixteen  years  ;  and 
finally  free  Italy,  under  Victor  Emmanuel,  in  18G6. 

The  scenes  that  had  been  enacted  here  in  and  about  this 
great  Square,  this  heart  of  the  old  Republic,  have  been  the 
theme  of  poet,  novelist,  and  historian  ;  it  is  one  of  those 
spots  in  the  world  that  you  seem  to  be  well  acquainted  with 


272        "how  many  a  tale  their  mcjsic  tells." 

when  you  first  set  foot  in  it,  and  find  each  familiar  monu- 
ment marking-  the  spot  of  historic  pictures  that  are  familiar 
to  all,  though  they  have  long  since  taken  their  place  in  the 
dim  gallery  of  the  past. 

It  was  here  we  tallied  over  the  stories  of  old  Venice,  as 
told  by  poet  and  historian,  while  our  gondoliers  slowly  urged 
our  light  craft  along  close  to  shore,  and  again  the  great  bell 
boomed  beneath  the  giants'  stroke  —  two  ! 

"  Not  two  o'clock  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  my  companion;  "  that  is  the  chime  for  the 
second  quarter,  the  half  hour  ;  and  do  you  know  that  there 
was  a  time  when  I  thought  that  great  bell  would  be  the  last 
one  I  should  ever  hear,  and  that  it  would  tell  off  the  last 
hours  of  my  existence  ?  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  I ;  "  then  you  must  have  had  an  attack 
of  fever  in  Venice,  and  lodged  in  the  Hotel  Belle  Vue,  next 
the  Clock  Tower." 

"  No,"  said  m}'  companion,  lighting  a  fresh  cigarette,  "  I 
lodged  in  no  hotel,  but  in  one  of  the  strongest  prison-cells 
of  the  'Council  of  Ten.' " 

"  One  of  the  prison-cells  ?  Ah  !  for  amusement,  I  pre- 
sume ?  " 

"Not  in  the  least;  it  was  anything  but  amusement,  I 
assure  you,  for  I  was  imprisoned  against  my  will  there  but 
a  few  years  since,  and  in  one  of  the  cells  in  which  state 
prisoners  were  confined  three  hundred  years  ago." 

"  You  surprise  me,"  said  I.  "Pray  tell  me  how  it  chanced, 
the  cause  of  your  imprisonment,  and  how  you  were  released  : 
by  the  consul,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  my  friend,  smiling  as  he  sent  the  little  smoke 
wreaths  into  the  air  through  the  open  lattice  ;  "  you  will 
never  guess  it.  But,  singular  as  it  may  appear,  I  was  im- 
prisoned without  legal  proceedings  of  any  kind,  and  for  no 
crime,  debt,  or  offence ;  and  I  believe,  for  a  time  at  least,  I  had 
some  idea  of  what  must  have  been  the  sufferings  of  political 
offenders  in  those  terrible  cells  in  which  they  were  incar- 
cerated by  their  cruel  judges." 


A    SINGULAR    STORY.  273 

I  was  more  than  ever  surprised  at  this  modern  exercise 
of  ancient  Venetian  tyranny,  and  of  course  urged  my  friend 
to  give  me  the  particulars,  which  he  at  once  proceeded  to  do. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

"  You  remember,"  said  my  friend,  "  that  when  I  first 
came  to  Venice,  I  remained  here  for  quite  a  length  of  time, 
indeed  until  the  waning  season  warned  me  to  take  my  de- 
parture. Like  all  young,  enthusiastic,  and  romantic  tourists, 
Venice  was  a  city  of  romance  and  a  fairy  land  to  me.  I  re- 
peopled  every  old  palace  with  the  senators  or  nobles  who 
formerly  dwelt  in  it,  and  whose  deeds  and  history  I  was 
familiar  with  long  before  I  had  stepped  within  their  ancient 
habitations.  St.  Mark's,  the  Piazza,  the  Ducal  Palace,  and 
the  Rialto,  I  visited  again  and  again,  and  in  the  great  hall 
of  the  palace  imagined  how  I  should  have  carried  myself  as 
one  of  the  powerful  Doges ;  or  I  sat  in  the  little  chamber  of 
the  terrible  Council  of  Three,  till  the  shadows  deepened, 
dreaming  over  the  scenes  that  had  been  there  enacted,  till 
warned  by  the  custodian  that  the  time  for  visitors  to  depart 
had  arrived. 

"  By  frequent  visits  I  became  quite  well  acquainted  with 
the  principal  custodian  of  the  ducal-palace  apartments  that 
are  shown  to  visitors,  an  acquaintance  which  became  posi- 
tive fi'iendship  on  his  part  after  liis  palm  had  been  ci'ossed 
by  a  silver  franc  two  or  three  times,  instead  of  the  paper 
lira  which  was  the  Italian  currency. 

"  I  used  to  enjoy  the   opportunity  afforded  to   study  at 

leisure  the  beautiful   pictures  of  Paul  Veronese  in  the  Hall 

of  the  Council  of  Ten,  and  lounge  backward  upon  a  wooden 

bench  and  gaze  upwards  at  Zelotti's  beautiful  frieze  and  the 

18 


274  THE    FEABFUL    THREE, 

rich  ceiling",  with  its  exquisite  paintings  ;  or  halted  in  the 
little  ante-room,  —  now  they  call  it  a  guard-room,  —  and, 
hoisting  the  window  curtains,  let  the  afternoon  sun  pour  its 
light  in  upon  the  rich  coloring  of  the  picture  of  tlie  Rape  of 
Europa,  in  which  the  maiden  was  being  seated  on  the  snow- 
white  bull  by  attendants,  while  flowers  and  garlands  were 
falling  from  the  hands  of  cupids  in  the  air  above,  and  foli- 
age, trees,  and  figures  were  all  blended  into  one  beautiful 
combination  of  the  painter's  art. 

"  In  the  Hall  of  the  Council  of  Ten,  on  a  dais  at  one  end 
of  the  chamber,  Avere  the  three  chairs  upon  which  the  Inquisi- 
tors sat  when  they  interrogated  their  trembling  victims  ;  and 
Avhen  the  noisy  groups  of  tourists  scurrying  through  the 
room  with  open  mouths  and  guide-books,  as  the  valet  de 
place  led  them  I'apidly  from  point  to  point,  and  adapted  his 
explanations  to  suit  the  position  he  might  be  occupying  or 
to  meet  the  desire  of  the  inquirer,  had  gone,  and  the  old 
hall  Avas  cool  and  quiet,  I  would  sit  in  the  principal  inquisi- 
tor's chair,  and  dream  of  the  dark  scenes  with  which  the 
place  was  haunted,  and  start  from  my  reverie  to  hear  the 
cry  of  the  gondolier  come  faintly,  mellowed  by  distance, 
through  one  of  the  high  windows.  It  required  but  little 
effort  of  the  imagination  to  repeople  this  old  hall  with  the 
ghosts  of  the  past,  or  imagine  the  tribunal  in  the  lesser  one 
known  as  the  Sala  del  Gapi,  that  of  '  The  Fearful  Three,' 
where  more  private  investigations  were  made. 

"  There  they  sat,  three  dark  figures,  with  black  robes 
reaching  from  head  to  foot,  scarcely  revealing  a  line  of  the 
form ;  tlie  cowl-covered  heads,  the  black  masks  through 
which  the  glitter  of  dark  eyes  came  like  shafts  of  death, 
as  they  fastened  their  gaze  upon  you.  Their  table,  black, 
witii  a  white  cross  ernl)lazoncd  upon  the  side  of  its  cover- 
ing towards  the  prisoner  ;  and  beluAv,  in  front  of  them,  at 
another  table,  a  monkisli-habitcd  clerk  took  down  the  prison- 
er's replies,  the  audible  scratching  of  his  pen,  as  it  travelled 
over  the  paper,  breaking  the  silence  of  the  terrible  chamber. 


GHOSTS    OF    THE    PAST.  2(0 

The  lamps,  suspended  overhead  by  chains,  cast  an  uncertain 
glare  upon  the  scene,  seeming  to  throw  the  inquisitorial 
Three  into  a  deep  shadow,  or  serving,  as  their  rays  sparkled 
upon  the  steel  weapons  of  a  couple  of  masked  halberdiers 
on  either  side  of  the  prisoner,  to  remind  him,  even  were  he 
not  in  chains,  of  the  hopelessness  of  escape. 

"  How  often  was  the  trial  a  mere  farce,  the  examination 
a  mere  pretext,  and  the  introduction  of  the  paraphernalia  of 
religion,  or  the  semblance  of  justice,  a  mere  mockery.  Placed 
before  the  terrible  Three,  the  prisoner  must  have  felt  that  his 
imprisonment  or  death  was  but  a  foregone  conclusion,  and 
turned  wnth  sinking  heart  to  follow  his  guard  over  the 
Bridge  of  Sighs  to  the  gloomy  dungeon  below  the  waters 
of  the  canal,  or  up  into  the  terrible  fastnesses  of  the  Solto 
Piombi. 

"  So  thought  I,  as  I  stood  musing,  with  folded  arms,  on 
the  spot  which  I  conjured  up  in  my  imagination  must  have 
been  in  the  days  of  the  Republic  occupied  by  the  prisoner. 
The  afternoon  shadows  were  lengthening,  and  the  triple 
boom  of  the  great  bell  from  the  clock-tower  sounded  like 
the  bell  tolling  for  a  prisoner's  execution.  I  was  tapped 
upon  the  shoulder,  and,  with  a  thrill,  turned,  almost  expect- 
ing to  see  the  masked  halberdier  beckoning  me  with  his 
steel-gloved  hand  to  follow,  but  only  encountered  the  smil- 
ing old  custodian,  who,  with  an  expressive  rattle  of  his 
bunch  of  keys,  informed  me  that  he  was  about  to  close  the 
apartments,  and  had  very  nearly  forgotten  I  was  there. 

"  The  old  fellow,  who  was  accustomed  to  permit  me  to 
wander  about  these  rooms  at  will,  had  on  various  occasions 
pointed  out  many  a  curious  memento  of  the  past,  among 
others  the  cells  or  rooms  in  the  Sotto  Piombi,  or  '  under 
the  leads,'  which  were  said  to  be  cold  and  cheerless  in 
MMnter,  and  hot  as  an  oven  beneath  the  rays  of  the  Italian 
sun  in  summer.  They  were  constructed  of  massive  timbers, 
tlie  dt)ors  heavily  and  securely  iron-bound,  swinging  easily 
to  the  touch  into  place,  and  closing  with  such  nicety  that 
no  aperture  in  the  wall  could  be  discovered. 


276  A   TERRIBLE   DUNGEON. 

"  In  one  of  these  cruel  dungeons,  now  turned  into  a  store- 
room for  old  lumber,  we  deciphered,  cut  into  the  almost  iron- 
like beams,  a  sentence  in  Italian  invoking  a  curse  on  the 
Republic  ;  and  in  another  place,  a  spot  where  the  light  from 
the  little  grated  window  fell,  was  scratched  a  rude  repre- 
sentation of  a  wreath  inclosing  the  names  —  Lucia,  Gio- 
vanni, —  scratched  doubtless  with  hours  of  patient  labor  by 
the  prisoner  during  his  captivity.  American  tourists  as  a 
rule,  especially  such  as  bad  read  Cooper's  novel  '  The 
Brav^o  of  Venice,'  wei-e  always  desirous  of  visiting  these 
cells,  most  of  which  were  turned  into  old  lumber-rooms,  and 
somewhat  difficult  of  access  from  their  position  beneath  the 
roof,  and  the  approach  through  a  corridor  plentifull}'  deco- 
rated with  dust  and  cobwebs. 

"  In  order  to  gratify  curiosity,  two  or  three  of  those  in 
the  best  state  of  preservation  were  shown  to  visitors,  espe- 
cially one  which  was  kept  in  quite  good  order  and  condi- 
tion, and  which  has  especial  interest  in  this  story.  It  was 
a  square,  solid  box  of  beams  of  wood,  which,  by  the  season- 
ing of  age,  seemed  to  be  as  hard  as  iron.  Its  thickness  was 
shown  in  the  door,  which  was  itself  a  section  of  tlie  cell 
more  than  two  feet  in  thickness,  yet  so  nicely  poised  that 
it  swung  to  its  position  by  a  mere  touch  of  the  finger,  fitting 
snugly  into  place.  There  was  a  sort  of  broad  wooden  bench, 
strongly  suggestive  of  a  funeral  bier,  said  to  have  been  the 
prisoner's  couch  by  night  and  seat  by  day. 

"  This  cell  was  lighted  by  a  window  eighteen  inches 
square,  grated  by  strong  iron  bars  let  into  the  stone  work 
outside  the  inner  wooden  casing.  Through  the  grating 
close  at  hand  you  could  catch  a  view  of  part  of  the  Cam- 
panile Tower,  and  far  out  at  the  left,  in  the  distance  beyond 
the  leads,  which  obstructed  the  view  immediately  beneath, 
you  could  see  the  dome  of  San  Giorgio,  and  beyond  that  the 
blue  waves  of  the  Adriatic." 

"  You  seem  to  remember  the  place  well,"  said  I,  as  my 
friend  paused  in  his  narrative. 


A   DANGEROUS   EXPERIMENT.  277 

"  Indeed  I  do  ;  every  part  of  it  is  vividly  impressed  upon 
my  memory,  and  I  have  good  reason  to  remember  it,  as  you 
will  see  by  my  story. 

"  I  had  been  in  the  Piombi  but  twice  :  the  first  time  with 
a  party  of  tourists  in  the  usual  style,  and  once  with  the  old 
custodian  upon  the  occasion  when  the  ancient  carvings  I 
have  mentioned  were  pointed  out  to  me. 

"  One  afternoon,  as  usual,  after  a  lounge  through  some 
of  the  rooms  of  the  old  palace,  and  a  new  look  at  the  beauti- 
ful pictures  of  Paul  Veronese,  Tintoretto,  and  Titian,  and  an 
inspection  of  the  curious  map  of  the  world,  which  the  patient 
old  monk.  Father  Mauro,  wrought  out  in  1457,  showing  all 
that  was  known  of  the  world  at  that  time,  I  bade  the  old 
custodian,  who  chanced  to  pass  me,  good  afternoon,  and  was 
about  to  stroll  out  again,  when  the  thought  came  over  me 
to  visit  the  cell  under  the  roof,  and  take  a  more  thorough 
look  at  it,  as  I  might  not  again  come  here. 

"  I  followed  in  the  direction  in  which  the  custodian  had 
gone  with  his  keys,  but  he  seemed  to  have  taken  some  turn 
that  carried  him  out  of  sight,  for  I  was  not  able  to  overtake 
him,  and  I  found  myself  in  the  familiar  ante-room  of  the 
Council  of  Ten.  Passing  out,  I  came  to  the  little  door  of 
modern  wooden  gratings  at  the  foot  of  the  flight  of  stairs 
that  led  to  the  cells  up  under  the  roof. 

"  What  need  of  a  guide  or  permission  ?  I  have  time  and 
can  go  by  myself.  But,  as  I  felt  for  my  watch,  I  was  A^exed 
to  find  that  in  making  a  change  of  dress  I  had  left  it  upon 
the  dressing-table  of  my  lodgings.  I  tried  the  door.  Pshaw ! 
it  was  fastened.  A  small,  cheap-looking  lock  enough,  to  be 
sure,  but  sufficient  to  keep  out  curiosity  hunters  who  had 
not  paid  toll  to  the  custodian.  Wait !  We  will  test  its 
efficacy.  In  a  moment  a  bunch  of  the  half  dozen  keys, 
which  nearly  every  man  carries  in  his  pocket,  were  out. 
I  tried  one,  —  two,  —  three.  The  fourth,  the  key  of  a 
cheap  trunk,  fitted  the  lock.  It  yielded  easily,  and  the 
light  latticed  door  opened  before  me,  and  swung  to  after  I 


278  A    VENETIAN    PRISON. 

had  entered,  with  a  sharp  snap,  —  one  of  those  cheap  little 
cupboard  sprinj^-locks,  made  to  keep 'a  door  closed,  rather 
than  for  protection. 

"  I  scrambled  up  the  stairs  till  the  light  grew  dim,  and 
finally  was  in  the  imperfect)}'  lighted  passage  at  the  top. 
A  dozen  paces  or  so,  and  I  was  at  the  door  of  the  cell, 
which  was  open,  and  I  entered  it,  going  up  to  the  little  win- 
dow which  in  the  gloom  framed  a  bit  of  bright  sky,  like  a 
blue  patch  surrounded  by  dark  crayon. 

"  A  cool,  fresh  breeze  blew  from  the  water;  and  the  draught 
was  delicious  as  I  leaned  my  chin  upon  the  iron  cross-bar, 
and  looked  out  upon  the  distant  water,  upon  which  were 
three  or  four  white-winged  craft  skimming  along  befoi'o  the 
breeze,  and  the  black  forms  of  one  or  two  gondolas  slowly 
cutting  the  waves. 

"I  wondei'ed  how  many  prisoners  had  whiled  away  the 
dreary  hours  of  captivity  by  looking  out,  as  I  was  doing, 
at  the  liberty  that  was  far  beyond  their  reach,  and  longing 
to  be  in  one  of  the  swift-sailing  craft,  that  it  might  bear 
them  away  to  freedom.  * 

"  I  turned  about,  and,  with  eyes  unaccustomed  to  the 
darkness,  could  scarce  make  out  anything  within  ;  but  there 
was  little  to  make  out  besides  what  I  have  already  de- 
scribed, except  a  dilapidated  old  chair  with  a  ruined  cush- 
ion, that  had  been  probably  placed  here  as  useless  lumber. 

"  There  was  the  prisoner's  bench  and  couch.  Was  it 
long  enough  for  a  couch  ?  I  had  a  fancy  to  try  it,  and,  tak- 
ing the  old  chair-cushion  for  a  pillow  for  head  and  shoulders, 
stretched  myself  upon  it  beneath  the  window. 

"  '  If  the  weather  was  as  comfortable  as  this,'  mused 
I,  as  I  lay  watching  the  shadows  of  the  iron  bars  in  the 
sunlight  on  the  opposite  wall,  while  the  gentle  draught  of  air 
blew  over  mo  from  the  little  grating  to  the  door,  '  the  pris- 
oner did  not  suffer  much  in  that  respect.' 

"  How  long  I  thus  reclined,  thinking  of  the  former  occu- 
pants  of  the  prison,  I   know  not,  but  was   suddenly   con- 


MYSTERIOUS    VISITORS.  2T9 

scious  that  I  was  not  alone,  A  tall  figure,  robed  apparently 
in  a  long  cloak  that  fell  from  shoulders  to  heels,  completely 
enveloping  his  person,  and  with  a  dark  cap,  which  served 
to  conceal  his  face,  stood  before  me.  Seeing  that  I  observed 
him,  he  made  a  beckoning  gesture,  and  pointed  to  the  door. 
Actuated  by  an  unaccountable  impulse,  I  obeyed,  and  found 
myself  passing  through  a  vaulted  passage  that  I  certainly 
had  never  seen  before,  and,  preceded  by  another  figure, 
robed  like  the  first,  in  black,  but  carrying  a  torch  in  one 
hand,  while  the  other  held  a  huge  bunch  of  keys. 

"  What  could  this  mean  ?  I  turned  about,  but  the  first 
figure  that  had  beckoned  me  was  scarce  six  paces  behind  ; 
and  I  now  noted  his  features  were  concealed  by  a  black 
mask,  through  which  the  glitter  of  his  eyes  sparkled  in  the 
rays  of  the  torchlight  ;  and  I  also  observed,  as  he  raised 
his  arm  with  impatient  gesture  for  me  to  proceed,  the  flash 
of  steel  in  the  girdle  at  his  waist.  With  a  heart  thumping 
against  my  ribs,  as  I  recollected  I  carried  neither  of  the  tra- 
ditional American  weapons  (bowie-knife  or  revolver),  I 
turned  again,  and  proceeded  after  the  torch-bearer,  at  whose 
waist  I  also  noted  both  belt  and  weapon. 

"On  we  went,  through  a  low,  arched  passage  of  solid 
masonry,  till  an  entrance  was  reached  in  which  swung, 
half  open,  a  low,  Gothic-shaped  door,  studded  with  heavy 
iron  bolts  :  through  it  passed  the  toixh-bearer,  myself  after 
him  ;  and  after  entering  a  few  paces,  I  turned,  and  found  he 
who  followed  me  had  done  the  same  ;  and  immediately  after 
he  had  entered,  the  heavy  door  swung  gently  together,  the 
sharp  click  of  a  spring-lock,  as  it  did  so  driving  the  blood 
back  to  my  heart  with  a  thrill  at  the  thought  I  had  allowed 
myself  to  be  kidnapped  into  a  secret  unknown  dungeon  by 
strangers,  without  even  the  semblance  of  a  struggle  for  my 
liberty. 

"  Turning  about,  I  found  myself  in  a  sort  of  round,  or,  I 
may  say,  octagonal  chamber.  In  addition  to  the  door  be- 
hind me,  by  which  I  had  entered,  were  two   others  at  the 


280  PRISONER   OF  THE  INQUISITION", 

right  and  left,  but  closed  and  guarded,  each  by  a  motionless 
figure  standing  beside  tliem.  Opposite  where  I  stood  sat 
two  figures  beliind  a  tabic,  upon  a  slightly  raised  platform, 
dressed  like  him  who  had  accompanied  me  to  the  place  : 
between  them  was  a  vacant  seat,  which  he  immediately 
took  ;  and  I  at  once  perceived,  by  the  deference  paid  to 
him,  that  he  was  of  the  most  distinction  of  the  three. 

"  Just  below  this  table  was  another,  at  which  sat  a  cowled 
figure,  masked,  but  whose  shaved  head,  as  he  bent  over 
the  paper  upon  which  he  was  writing,  revealed  him  as  a  monk- 
ish clerk.  All  this  I  noted  in  a  gaze  swiftly  thrown  around 
the  apartment,  without  discovering  any  other  opening  save 
the  three  doors.  The  stone  ceiling  above  was  blackened  by 
torch-smoke,  and  the  air  close  and  oppressive. 

"  But  why  was  I  brought  here  ?  Why  this  hideous 
masquerade,  which,  despite  all  I  could  do,  inspired  me  with 
secret  horror  ? 

"  The  silence  was  broken  by  a  voice  from  one  of  the  three 
at  the  table  : 

"  '  Prisoner,  your  name.' 

"  '  Prisoner  !  '  said  I,  starting  at  the  word  ;  '  by  what 
right  am  I  arrested,  and  for  what  offence.' 

"' That  you  will  learn  presently,'  was  the  reply;  'give 
to  the  court  your  name.' 

"  I  gave  it. 

"  '  Age,  occupation,  and  profession." 

"  Half  mechanically,  I  responded. 

" '  State  to  the  court  your  actual  purpose  in  visiting 
Venice.' 

"  '  The  court  ?  By  what  court  am  I  examined,  and  who 
are  you  that  demand  to  know  of  my  affairs  ?  ' 

"  '  The  Inquisitorial  Court  of  Venice  holds  you  before  it  for 
examination.  Best  be  direct,  and  answer  promptly,'  re- 
sponded my  interrogator. 

"  The  Inquisitorial  Court  !  Could  it  be  that  I  was  in  the 
power  of  the  terrible  Inquisition,  and  that  institution  was 
still  in  existence  ? 


A    TERPvIBLE    SITUATION.  281 

"  '  Best  answer  quietly,  my  son,'  came  in  a  low  tone  from 
the  lips  of  the  monkish  clerk,  as  he  raised  his  head,  reveal- 
ing a  long,  white  beard  that  fell  from  beneatli  his  mask, 
through  the  eyeholes  of  which  that  same  devilish  glitter  that 
characterized  the  judges  seemed  to  flash. 

"  '  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,'  said  I,  '  and  de- 
mand instant  release  ;  I  appeal  to  the  American  consul ;  I 
deny  the  right  of  any  such  secret  arrest  or  examination  as 
this.  Who  are  you  that  dare  treat  a  free  American  citizen 
in  this  manner  ?  ' 

"  A  low  laugh,  in  the  silence  that  followed  my  furious  out- 
burst, came  to  my  ears,  as  the  inquisitor  replied  : 

"  '  Listen,  prisoner  !  You  are  in  the  presence  of  a  court 
founded  and  in  operation  before  jour  country  was  known  by 
the  dvilized  world  to  be  in  existence.  You  are  here  to  re- 
ply, and  we  to  question.  We  are  prepared  for  all  emergen- 
cies, as  this  court  has  been  for  centuries.' 

"  While  these  words  were  being  uttered,  I  endeavored  to 
collect  my  scattered  senses,  and  consider  the  best  method 
to  proceed.  Shut  in  on  every  side,  there  was  no  chance  for 
a  dash  for  liberty.  But  my  soul  rebelled  at  the  mocking 
sneer  with  which  my  appeals  had  been  met,  and  the  feeling 
of  dread  gave  way  to  the  fierce  desire  to  wreak  a  just 
vengeance  upon  the  heads  of  this  infamous  council.  But 
how  ? 

"  At  one  side  of  the  monk's  table  stood  a  headsman's 
axe  and  block  ;  at  the  other  a  stake,  to  which  were  at- 
tached a  large  iron  ring,  chains,  and  fetters,  —  emblems, 
doubtless,  to  strike  terror  to  the  hearts  of  prisoners,  or  a 
refinement  of  cruelty,  in  reminding  them  of  the  block  or 
stake  to  which  tiiey  would  be  condemned.  The  torch-rays 
fell  upon  the  gleaming  blade  of  the  axe,  scai'ce  six  paces 
from  where  I  was  standing.  With  that  weapon  in  my  hand, 
some  of  tlio  tyrants  that  dared  tamper  with  a  freeman's  lib- 
erty should  feel  the  weight  of  his  arm. 

"  '  Prisoner,'  again  said  the  inquisitor,  '  will  you  answer 
the  questions  of  the  court  ?  ' 


282  A    DASH    FOR   LIBERTY. 

"  '  Xo  !  I  defy  you  ! '  shouted  I,  making-  a  spnng'  for- 
ward towards  tlic  headsman's  blade.  But  I  was  instantly 
seized  on  cither  side  by  a  grasp  so  powerful  that  I  failed  to 
advance  a  foot  from  my  position.  Two  stalwart  guards,  who 
stood  but  a  pace  behind  me,  had  seized  each  of  my  arms  in 
their  iron  gripe,  and  I  remained  pinioned  and  immovable  as 
if  in  a  vise. 

"  Neither  judges  nor  clerk  had  even  started  at  my  sudden 
movement,  but  remained  calm  and  immovable  as  though 
nothing  had  occurred,  bnt  the  low  mocking  and  sarcastic 
laugh  of  the  inquisitor,  that  came  to  my  ears  as  I  stood 
panting  with  exertion,  caused  every  feeling  of  fear  to  give 
way  to  that  of  rage  and  indignation. 

"  Again  the  silence  of  the  place,  which  for  some  seconds 
seemed  interrupted  only  by  my  heavy  breathing,  was  broken 
by  the  calm  tones  of  the  inquisitor  : 

"  '  Prisoner,  do  you  still  refuse  to  answer  the  questions 
of  the  court  ?  ' 

"  '  I  do,'  panted  I,  '  and  deny  your  right  to  question  me,  a 
free  citizen,  before  a  secret  tribunal  ;  and  no  power  on  earth 
shall  make  me  answer  to  it.' 

"  '  Have  a  care,  prisoner,  lest  the  court  proceed  to  use 
means  to  force  you  to  reply.' 

"  '  Force  !  Have  a  care  yourself,'  retorted  I,  '  how  you 
use  force,  lest  you  suffer  the  consequences.' 

"  Again  the  mocking  laugh,  as  the  inquisitor  said  : 

"  '  We  have  arranged  all  that.  Do  you  reflect  that  all 
that  may  in  future  be  known  of  you  is  that  a  man  has  dis- 
appeared in  Venice,  —  fallen  into  the  canal,  perhaps  ;  the 
probability,  a  possibility,  if  we  choose  to  have  the  body 
found  floating  there  a  few  days  after  it  is  so  suggested  ?  ' 

"  A  cold  sweat  burst  forth  from  every  pore.  I  felt  this 
was  too  true  ;  no  friend  or  relative  was  in  the  city  with  me  ; 
indeed,  no  inquiry  could  be  made,  except  by  my  landlord, 
for  weeks,  as  to  my  disappearance.  I  was  ignorant  where 
I  was,  except  that  it  was  in  a  stone  dungeon,  and  inaccessible 


A    CHAMBER   OF    HORROKS.  283 

to  any  from  the  outside  world  except  such  as  my  kidnappers 
chose  to  admit. 

"  I  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  and  my  breath  came  thick 
and  fast  as  I  realized  my  terrible  position. 

"'Prisoner,  are  you  prepared  to  answer?'  came  again 
the  cold,  determined  tone  of  the  inquisitor. 

"'I  will  answer  nothing/  said  I  defiantly;  'do  your 
worst.' 

"  '  Perhaps  the  prisoner  will  recall  his  refusal  when  he 
finds  what  means  we  have  at  hajid  to  enforce  compliance/ 
said  the  judge,  as  he  made  a  signal  to  the  guard  at  one  of 
the  side  doors. 

"  The  door  slowly  swung  open,  revealing  a  small  arched 
apartment  in  the  solid  stone  work,  lighted  by  a  single  lamp 
depending  by  a  chain  from  the  ceiling.  Its  light  revealed  to 
me  a  horrid  sight,  that  sent  the  blood  back  to  my  heart, 
and  caused  an  involuntary  shudder.  In  the  middle  of  the 
apartment,  extending  nearly  from  one  end  to  the  other,  was 
a  huge  oblong  frame,  consisting  of  four  wooden  beams 
raised  a  little  from  the  floor,  and  at  each  end  were  cords, 
levers,  wheels,  and  pulleys. 

"  I  recognized  it  only  too  readily.  It  was  the  terrible 
rack,  upon  which  prisoners  were  placed  to  extort  from  them 
confessions  when  the  ordinary  means  failed. 

•■'  I  was  still  in  the  iron  grip  of  the  two  guards.  What 
could  this  mean  ?  Was  I  indeed  actually  in  the  power  of  a 
secret  tribunal  in  a  Venetian  dungeon,  and  would  they  dare 
inflict  torture  upon  me,  or  was  this  a  masquerade  of  friends 
at  my  expense.  The  latter  thought  gave  me  new  hope,  and 
I  turned  again ;  but  it  was  a  horrid  reality,  and  I  met  only 
the  stern  gaze  looking  through  the  eyeholes  of  the  masked 
judges,  the  arched  stone  cell,  and  heard  the  pitiless  voice, 
which  was  one  entirely  unknown  to  me,  ask  : 

"  '  Does  the  prisoner  refuse  to  answer  ?  ' 

"  A  fierce  efibrt  for  release,  which  seemed  scarcely  to 
cause  an  effort  on  the  part  of  the  iron  muscles  of  my  cap- 
tors to  restrain,  was  my  only  reply. 


284  A   DESPERATE    STRUGGLE. 

"  The  inquisitor  nodded,  and  I  was  borne  to  the  terrible 
engine  of  torture,  and  bent  down  backwards  by  main  force 
towards  the  hard  beams.  It  Avas  a  fearful  moment,  despair 
lent  me  strength,  and  as  my  captors  strove  to  bind  the  cords 
that  were  to  pinion  my  limbs  to  the  cruel  machinery,  sum- 
moning all  my  energy,  and  with  a  mighty  and  tremendous 
effort  that  seemed  to  swell  my  veins  to  bursting,  I  broke 
from  them,  sprang  to  my  feet,  dealing  the  foremost  guard  a 
tremendous  blow  that  felled  him  with  a  heavy  shock  to  the 
floor,  when  lights,  inquisitors,  rack,  and  prison  seemed  to 
vanish  like  a  vision,  as  they  were,  and  I  found  myself  pros- 
trate and  panting  upon  the  hard  floor  —  awake. 

"  Awake  !  But  where  ?  The  great  drops  were  upon  my 
brow,  my  heart  was  knocking  like  a  trip-hammer  at  my  ribs, 
and,  although  dungeon  and  inquisitors  had  disappeared,  all 
was  dark  as  Erebus.  My  hand  was  bruised  and  aching  from 
the  blow  struck,  and  it  seemed  that  the  shock  of  my  enemy's 
fall  was  yet  ringing  in  my  ears.  I  lay  still  panting  and 
listening,  but  all  was  silent  as  the  grave.  My  nostrils  were 
filled  with  a  cloud  of  dust,  which  it  appeared  that  my 
struggle  or  fall  had  caused,  and  which  set  me  to  coughing 
and  sneezing.  Was  it  a  dream,  or  had  the  lights  been 
merely  extinguished  to  prevent  my  escaping  ?  No  ;  I  was 
certainly  awake,  but  the  atmosphere  was  close,  the  impene- 
trable darkness  oppressive,  and  the  silence  awful  ;  but  all 
at  once.it  was  broken  by  the  melodious  boom  of  the  bell  from 
the  great  clock -tower. 

"  One  !  two  !  three  !  Either  three  o'clock  or  three  quar- 
ters past  the  hour.  And  then  came  faintly  to  my  ear  the 
cry  of  a  distant  gondolier  ;  and  as  I  turned  slightly  from  the 
position  in  which  I  lay,  my  eyes  caught  a  patch  of  light  on 
the  opposite  wall.  It  was  the  moonlight  shining  through 
the  grated  window  ;  and  as  my  heart  began  to  beat  less 
rapidly,  and  I  to  collect  my  scattered  senses,  the  whole 
truth  burst  upon  me.  A  load  was  lifted  like  a  mountain 
from  my  mind.     I  liad  fallen  asleep  on  the  prisoner's  couch 


THE    FOE    IN    THE    DARK.  285 

in  the  cell  under  the  leads,  sprung  off  it  in  my  struggle  on 
the  rack  in  my  dream,  and  fallen  upon  the  floor.  I  must 
have  slept  here  till  long  after  dark,  but  how  long  ? 

"  Let  us  see.  I  leaped  to  my  feet  and  advanced  rapidly 
to  the  grated  window,  but  had  taken  scarce  three  steps  ero 
I  was  felled  almost  prostrate  and  bleeding  by  a  sudden  blow 
upon  the  forehead. 

"  Ah  !  It  is  not  all  a  dream  after  all,  and  there  is  some 
one  here.  But  as  I  lay  prostrate  and  listened,  I  hoard  not 
the  faintest  rustle  of  garment  or  movement  or  sound  betray- 
ing another's  presence.  For  full  five  minutes,  quietly 
where  I  had  fallen,  did  I  strain  ever}'^  sense  to  catch  a  move- 
ment, and  held  my  own  breath  in  vain  hope  to  catch  the 
respiration  of  my  opponent,  but  all  was  silent  as  the  grave. 

"  The  thought  of  being  here  in  this  gloomy  cell  at  night 
with  an  unknown  adversary  was  terrible.  The  nervousness 
of  the  fearful  dream  returned  tenfold.  I  felt  carefully  in 
my  pockets  for  a  weapon,  knowing  all  the  while  I  had  noth- 
ing but  a  contemptible  little  one-bladed  penknife  ;  but  this  I 
took  out  and  opened,  and  after  a  while,  rising  to  my  knees, 
made  a  sweep  with  it  in  my  right  hand  as  far  as  I  could 
reach,  but  met  no  obstacle. 

"  I  began  to  recall  the  story  of  duels  in  dark  rooms  that 
I  had  read  when  a  lad,  and  how  long  two  opponents  had 
waited  with  cocked  pistols  or  bared  weapons,  with  strained 
senses,  to  discover  their  enemy's  whereabouts,  till  at  last  a 
faint  respiration  betrayed  it,  and  the  weapon  discharged  in 
that  direction  by  its  flash  exposed  him  who  discharged  it  to 
his  enemy.  How  I  longed  for  a  pistol,  and  how  I  strained 
the  sense  of  hearing  to  catch  some  indication  of  my  adver- 
sary's presence  ;  but  in  vain, 

"  Grown  weary  of  remaining  in  a  kneeling  posture  upon 
the  hard  floor,  I  resolved  to  rise  to  my  feet  at  all  hazards,  and 
slowly  and  cautiously  rose  to  an  upright  position,  and  had 
nearly  attained  it  when  my  head  encountered  some  obstacle. 
Putting  up  my  hand,  I  found  it  to  be  the  sloping  beams  of 


286  A    PUZZLING   POSITION. 

that  part  of  the  apartment,  and  it  at  once  flashed  upon  me 
tliat  no  human  hand  had  inflicted  the  blow  I  had  received, 
but  that  it  was  the  result  of  hastily  moving  in  the  darkness 
in  that  direction,  wliich  was  really  the  fact. 

"  Again  I  felt  as  if  a  weight  was  lifted  from  my  mind, 
and  with  a  deep  inspiration  of  relief,  and  extended  hands  to 
guard  against  further  accident,  I  groped  my  way  almost 
fainting  to  the  little  window,  which  I  reached,  and,  resting 
my  chin  upon  its  sill,  eagerly  drank  in  large  draughts  of  the 
pure  air  and  looked  out  upon  the  blue  moonlit  sky  which 
never  appeared  to  me  so  beautiful,  and  the  distant  waves 
that  sparkled  in  the  beam  more  lovely  than  ever  before.  The 
reaction  was  so  great,  and  the  feeling  so  grateful  as  of  hav- 
ing escaped  some  terrible  peril,  that  I  can  hardly  express 
what  a  sense  of  gratitude  and  happiness  I  experienced  at 
standing  there  and  knowing  I  was  safe,  and  had  only  had  a 
terrible  dream,  and  was  not  shut  out  from  the  pure  air  of 
heaven  or  from  beneath  the  lovely  blue  sky,  —  was  free  and 
not  confined  in  a  dreary  dungeon. 

"  But  as  my  thoughts  began  to  get  into  their  usual  chan- 
nel once  more,  and  my  nerves  steadied  again,  the  question 
of  my  real  position  began  to  present  itself  to  me.  Here  I  was 
at  night,  up  under  the  leads  in  a  cell  in  the  Ducal  Palace, 
The  apartments  must  of  course  be  closed  for  the  night.  I 
was  indeed  a  prisoner  till  morning,  but  how  long  was  it  till 
morning  ?  I  remembered,  when  felled  to  the  floor  by  the 
blow  from  the  beam,  to  have  heard  the  bell  from  the  clock- 
tower  strike.  Was  it  one  o'clock,  or  would  the  next  peal  be 
the  quarter  past  some  other  hour  ? 

.  "  1  must  wait  patiently  and  endeavor  to  ascertain.  It 
came  at  last,  one  solitary  boom,  the  same  as  first  heard,  and 
again  I  was  tortured  with  doubt,  until  the  next  stroke  came 
—  two.  It  was  half  past  something,  certainly,  and  so  I 
waited,  and  never  did  moments  move  on  more  leaden  wings, 
till  at  last  the  three-quarters  were  pealed  out,  and  then  the 
welcome  stroke  which  was  to  tell  me  the  hour  would  come 
in  fifteen  minutes  more. 


LEADEN   MOMENTS.  287 

"  I  never  moved  from  the  window.  T  felt  I  could  not 
look  enough  upon  the  blue  waves  now  dancing-  in  the  beams 
of  the  descending  moon.  I  think  that  I  uttered  a  prayer 
of  thanks  that  the  vision  of  the  Inquisition  had  not  been  a 
reality,  but  it  seemed  as  if  the  hour  would  never  arrive. 
I  even  began  to  imagine  it  might  have  struck  and  I  not 
heard  it,  and  then  I  laughed  to  myself  at  the  idea,  and  began 
counting  off  seconds  and  checking  every  sixty  with  one  of 
my  fingers,  and  had  got  to  the  eighth  when  the  bronze  ham- 
mers began  their  work  on  the  sonorous  metal,  and  I  counted 
aloud.  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight,  nine, 
ten,  eleven,  twelve  ! 

"Twelve  o'clock!  Midnight!  And  I  must  wait  from 
midnight  till  at  least  seven  or  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning 
before  the  custodian  would  come.  However,  I  felt  quite 
cheerful  about  what  I  considered  this  brief  imprisonment, 
and  had  busied  myself  stanching  the  blood  from  the  cut  on 
my  forehead,  and  thinking  of  the  surprise  I  should  occasion 
the  custodian  in  the  morning,  and  the  story  I  should  have 
to  tell  of  my  vivid  dream  of  Venetian  tyranny,  when  it 
occurred  to  me  that  1  might  as  well  occupy  the  time  by 
passing  out  of  this  close  and  uncomfortable  cell,  and  grop- 
ing my  way  to  the  more  spacious  apartments  below  stairs. 
Accordingly,  moving  slowly  with  outstretched  arms  through 
the  dense  gloom,  I  sought  the  door.  It  was  but  a  short  dis- 
tance from  one  side  of  the  cell  to  the  other,  and,  groping 
forward  through  the  darkness,  my  outstretched  hands  soon 
encountered  the  opposite  wall,  but  I  felt  vainly  for  the 
opening. 

"  I  could  not  be  mistaken.  If  I  recollected  correctly,  it 
was  directly  opposite  the  little  grated  window  up  to  which 
I  had  walked  on  first  entering  ;  and,  turning  about,  I  ob- 
served the  light  of  the  now  sinking  moon  shining  through 
that,  directly  opposite  where  1  stood.  Again  I  sought  the 
open  door,  moving  my  hands  slowly  along  the  smooth  old 
oaken  beams  till  I  reached  the  angle  forming  the  corner.     I 


288  TRAPPED    IN    A   PRISOX    CELL. 

had  missed   the   opening  in   some    unaccountable    manner, 
probably  passed  to  the  left  of  it. 

"  Starting  from  my  new  position,  I  carefully  felt  my  way 
back  to  where  I  supposed  the  door  must  be,  but  still  con- 
tinued to  meet  an  unbroken  surface,  till  ni}^  further  progress 
was  stopped  by  the  angle  of  the  wall  at  the  extreme  right. 
What  was  the  meaning  of  this  ?  There  was  a  door  upon  that 
side  certainly,  or  had  I  got  turned  about  in  my  sleep,  as 
people  do  sometimes  when  waking  from  sound  repose  at 
midnight,  and  are  compelled  to  get  up,  or  to  take  hold  of  the 
footboard  of  the  bed,  to  convince  themselves  that  their  posi- 
tion has  not  been  reversed  since  retiring. 

"  Again  I  carefully  felt  my  way  the  whole  length  of  the 
partition.  To  my  touch  it  was  smooth  and  unbroken  as  a 
single  block.  Reaching  the  angle,  I  followed  the  wall  along, 
came  to  the  opposite  side,  and  reached  the  window,  from 
which  I  saw  the  moon  was  now  nearly  out  of  sight,  render- 
ing the  darkness  of  my  prison  still  more  pitchy.  I  con- 
tinued my  course,  passed  the  window,  feeling  every  inch  of 
the  way  with  hand,  and  trying  with  pressure  of  foot  and 
knee  as  I  progressed  ;  but  the  space  appeared  unbroken  by 
opening,  aperture,  or  hinge,  and  at  last,  having  completed 
the  entire  circuit  of  the  cell,  I  again  stood  grasping  the  bars 
of  the  little  grated  window  with  a  beating  heart. 

"  It  was  plain  I  was  shut  in,  but  for  what  purpose  and 
by  whom  ?  And  again  my  nervous  imagination  suggested 
that  this  might  be  another  portion  of  a  dream.  So  I 
whistled,  sang  a  stave  of  a  song,  shouted,  and  otherwise 
thoroughly  convinced  myself  that  I  was  completely  awake, 
and  then  began  to  rack  my  brain  as  to  how  it  was  I  became 
shut  in,  and  why  it  was  I  was  unable  to  find  the  door  of  my 
prison. 

"  Just  then  the  great  bell  struck. 

"  One  ! 

"  Only  one  o'clock.  But  one  hour  had  passed,  and  I  had 
at  least  three  more  to  wait  until  daylight. 


A    TERBIBLE    >'IGnT.  289 

"  I  cannot  recall  all  the  thoughts  that  ran  through  my 
mind  during  that  terrible  night,  but  it  seemed  as  though 
every  story  of  imprisonment  from  Baron  Trenck  to  Jack 
Sheppard,  and  every  romance,  novel,  and  history,  in  which  I 
had  ever  read  of  a  prison-cell,  came  back  vividly  to  my 
recollection,  and  the  successive  booms  of  the  great  bell  on 
the  clock-tower  as  they  told  oflF  the  quarters  of  the  hour,  — 
I  imagined  how  thej'-  must  have  sounded  all  too  quickly  to 
the  wretch  who  had  but  a  single  night  to  live,  and  heard  it 
thus  checked  off  by  the  bronze  giants  with  all  too  ready 
hammers,  though  to  me  they  were  laggards  in  their  work. 

"The  moon  had  now  gone  down,  and  air  was  darkness, 
but  this  did  not  prevent  me  from  again  making  a  careful 
circuit  of  the  apartment,  and  even  for  a  third  time,  so 
confident  was  I  of  having  mistaken  the  opening ;  but  now 
each  effort  was  attended  with  the  same  result,  and  after  the 
circuit  I  reached  the  little  grated  window  whence  I  had 
started. 

"  Anxious  and  fatigued,  I  again  stretched  myself  upon 
the  wooden  bench  upon  which  still  remained  the  old  chair- 
cushion  that  had  served  me  as  a  pillow,  and  turned  my  face 
towards  the  window  with  a  feeling  of  despair  to  wait  pa- 
tiently for  the  morning's  light  to  aid  in  effecting  deliverance. 
As  I  did  so,  I  saw,  in  the  dark  blue  of  the  sky  without,  a 
single  sparkling  star  that  seemed  to  be  twinkling  in  between 
the  iron  bars  like  an  emblem  of  hope ;  and  as  I  lay  gazing 
at  it,  and  tliinking  what  a  companion  one  of  God's  beautiful 
lights  like  this  must  have  been  to  the  solitary  prisoner  who 
enjoyed  the  privilege  of  this  outlook,  so  rare  in  the  ducal 
prisons,  tired  nature  succumbed,  and  I  was  again  in  the  land 
of  dreams. 

"  This  time  I  was  spared  so  fearful  a  nightmare  as  before, 
and  my  worst  experience  was  in  imagining  that  I  was  lying 
at  the  foot  of  a  deep,  dark  shaft  of  a  mine,  looking  up  at 
the  opening  that  twinkled  far  above  me  like  a  single  star 
upon  a  black  sky.  Again,  I  was  a  wretch  bound  and 
19 


200  DAYLIGHT    AT    LAST. 

prostrate  upon  the  hard  boards  of  a  rough  cart,  being 
dragged  to  execution,  the  rougli  inequalities  of  the  road,  as 
we  jostled  over  it,  bruising  every  aching  joint,  and  the  great 
bell  tolling  the  knell  of  death  as  we  neared  the  scaffold, 
when  I  awoke  again  with  a  start. 

"  My  limbs  indeed  ached  with  the  hardness  of  my  wooden 
couch,  and  the  final  strokes  of  the  bell  of  the  clock-tower 
outside  accounted  for  another  portion  of  the  dream  ;  but 
welcome  daylight  had  arrived  and  already  partially  illumi- 
nated the  gloom  of  my  prison.  Rising  to  my  feet,  I  straight- 
ened up  my  aching  limbs,  and  once  more  went  to  the  little 
grated  window,  my  source  of  light  and  air,  and  looked  out. 
It  was  broad  daylight  now,  sure  enough  ;  the  morning  sun- 
beams sparkled  on  the  distant  waves  ;  I  could  hear  far  off 
shouts  of  gondoliers,  and  see  the  distant  water-craft  again, 
and  ere  long  heard  the  stroke  of  the  hour,  —  seven. 

"  Now  for  a  thorough  look  for  the  door  of  this  terrible 
dungeon,  to  find  it  and  go  forth.  By  the  dim  light,  to 
which  my  eyes  had  become  accustomed,  I  discovered  the 
main  features  of  the  cell,  with  which  I  was  already  tolerably 
familiar  :  a  four-sided  room  of  heavy  oaken  beams,  as  before 
described,  the  roof  of  the  side  in  which  the  grated  window 
was  set  being  sloping,  and  not  sufficiently  high  for  me  to 
occupy  an  upright  position.  In  the  middle  of  the  apart- 
ment was  the  prisoner's  wooden  bench,  or  couch,  upon 
which  I  had  passed  my  few  hours  of  troubled  slumber,  look- 
ing more  bier-like  than  ever. 

"  But  where  was  the  door  ? 

"  I  walked  directly  to  the  spot  where  I  felt  confident  it 
ought  to  be,  but,  closely  as  I  examined,  I  could  discover  only 
what  seemed  to  be  an  unbroken  wall  to  the  apartment. 

"  It  was  no  nightmare  now,  but  a  fearful  reality  ;  a  riddle, 
the  solution  of  which  I  must  bring  my  keenest  senses  to  bear 
upon,  and  I  felt  it.  My  sight  had  now  become  so  accustomed 
to  the  imperfect  light  that  I  could  examine  my  prison  with 
a  tolerable  degree  of  distinctness,  and  indeed  the  morning 


VAIX  EFFOETS  FOR  FREEDOM.  291 

was  SO  far  advanced  that  the  rays  of  daylight  coming' 
througli  the  barred  window  made  portions  of  the  cell  easily 
discernible. 

"  It  was  perfectly  evident  to  me  that  the  door  must  have 
been  shut  during  my  first  slumber  the  night  previous,  but 
how,  by  whom,  or  for  what  purpose,  I  could  not  imagine. 
On  calm  reflection  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  cus- 
todian or  some  friend,  having  discovered  me  sleeping,  had 
thought  it  would  be  a  pleasant  practical  joke  to  thus  incar- 
cerate me  for  the  night,  and  that  they  would  promptly  lib- 
erate me  in  the  morning. 

"  But  it  was  now  morning,  and  the  clock-tower  bell  had 
struck  eight  as  I  sat  on  the  bench  moodily  turning  over 
these  thoughts  and  reflections. 

"The  Ducal  Palace  was  open  for  visitors,  I  remembered, 
from  nine  to  four  ;  the  apartments  generally  all  cleared  at 
five  p.  M.,  which  was  about  the  time  I  had  ascended,  led 
by  my  prying  curiosity  to  this  accursed  prison.  It  could 
now  be  but  an  hour  before  the  custodian  and  his  officials 
were  on  duty.  At  or  before  that  time  he  or  whoever  had 
perpetrated  this  wretched  joke,  if  joke  it  was,  would  come 
and  release  me. 

"  Slowly  the  moments  rolled  along,  but  not  the  sound  of 
any  approach  broke  the  silence  till  at  length,  after  the  last 
stroke  of  nine  had  sounded,  I  could  endure  waiting  no 
longer.  I  went  to  the  wall  where  the  door  ought  to  have 
been,  examined  it  closely,  held  my  face  down  to  discover 
any  current  of  air,  and  tried  with  finger-nails  to  detect  the 
crack.  There  were  cracks  enough,  horizontal  and  longitudi- 
nal, for  that  matter,  and  through  one  of  the  latter  I  felt,  or 
fancied  I  felt,  to  my  great  joy,  a  current  of  air  ;  the  door 
must  be  here,  and  I  threw  myself  with  all  my  force  against 
the  spot  and  each  side  and  about  it,  but  without  any  more 
perceptible  effect  than  against  a  solid  wall  of  masonry.  The 
ancient  Venetian  builder  had  succeeded  all  too  well  with  his 
devilish  contrivance  of  security  against  outbreak,  and,  pant- 


292  STARVATION    IN    PUOSrECT. 

ing  with  exertion,  and  with  perspiration  streaming  from  every 
pore,  notwithstanding  coat  and  vest  had  been  thrown  off  for 
the  effort,  I  staggered  back  again  to  the  oaken  bench  as  the 
clock  struck  ten. 

"  What  efl'ort  shouhl  I  make  next?  I  felt  faint  and  sick, 
and  now  for  the  first  time  realized  the  want  of  nourishment, 
and  that,  since  a  light  lunch  nearly  twenty-four  hours  pre- 
vious, nothing  had  passed  my  lips.  From  the  hour  of  wak- 
ing, throat  and  lips  were  parched  with  thirst,  both  from  the 
excitement  and  the  exertion  I  had  made,  and  now  the  longing 
for  water  was  intolerable.  Tongue,  lips,  and  throat  seemed 
dry  unto  bursting,  and  my  heart  beat  quicker  at  the  thought 
of  dying  of  thirst  and  hunger  in  this  terrible  place,  as  I 
cursed  the  thoughtlessness  that  led  me  to  wander  up  here 
alone  and  unnoticed, 

"  I  had  not  tried  shouting  for  help,  and  why  should  I  not  ? 
But  it  seemed  as  if  my  parched  tongue  refused  its  office,  and 
my  efforts  only  resulted  in  a  hoarse  sort  of  shriek  for  help, 
which  certainly  could  not  be  heard  through  the  thick  walls 
of  my  prison  ;  and  I  soon  found  this  effort  becoming  little 
more  than  a  hoarse  whisper,  and  so  tottered  to  the  window 
once  again  to  inhale  the  reviving  air  and  look  forth,  while 
yet  I  might,  upon  the  blue  sky,  the  beautiful  distant  waves, 
and  listen  to  what  faint  sounds  of  free  life  without  might 
float  up  to  me  from  the  busy  city  far  below. 

"  The  hammers  of  the  bronze  giants  were  again  busy,  and 
the  great  bell  of  the  clock-tower  began  to  toll  off  the  hour 
of  noon.     Twelve  o'clock,  and  yet  no  signs  of  my  liberation. 

"  There  was  a  rush  as  of  many  wings  ;  a  flock  of  pigeons 
passed  in  sight  of  my  prison-window  —  the  pigeons  of  St. 
Mark,  that  always  come  into  the  square  at  the  stroke  of  two 
to  be  fed  with  their  governmental  ration  of  grain.  They 
were  gathering  in  anticipation  of  the  approaching  hour  of 
their  daily  feast.  A  dozen  alighted  upon  the  leads  below, 
not  twenty  feet  from  my  window.  Could  I  not  in  some  way 
make  these  to  bo  carrier-pigeons,  giving  intelligence  of  my 


EXHAUSTION^    AND    DESPAIR.  293 

fate.  But  I  had  no  means  of  entrapping  or  enticing  them 
any  nearer  to  me. 

"  A  thorough  search  of  my  pocket  revealed  nothing  but 
a  penknife,  a  bunch  of  keys,  my  purse,  a  few  letters,  and 
my  note-book. 

"  My  note-book  !  I  would  turn  this  to  account,  at  least 
while  I  had  the  strength  to  do  so.  I  wrote  severally  in  Eng- 
lish, French,  and  as  well  as  I  was  able  in  Italian,  which  I 
then  knew  but  imperfectly,  these  words  : 

"  '  Help  !  A  visitor  who  has  been  accidentally  shut  in  a 
cell  in  Sotto  Piombi  in  the  Ducal  Palace,  and  is  dying,  writes 
these  lines.      In  God's  name,  help  at  once  ! ' 

"These  I  folded  and  indorsed,  'Look  Within,'  and  then 
threw  them  out  through  the  grated  bars  of  my  prison,  hoping* 
they  would  flutter  into  the  square  below  and  be  there  found. 
They  dropped  upon  the  leads,  and  one  fluttered  in  between 
two  little  projections  and  was  wedged  firmly,  and  the  others 
did  not  come  in  sight  from  under  the  great  overhanging  sill 
that  projected  beneath  my  window.  So,  with  trembling 
bands,  I  wrote  and  rewrote  half  a  dozen  more,  folding  them 
and  throwing  them  out  as  far  as  I  possibly  could,  and  was 
tortured  to  see -some  of  these  little  white  missives  lying 
upon  the  leads  in  plain  siglit,  with  not  a  breath  of  air  to 
waft  them  to  those  who  might  set  me  free. 

"  Again  the  great  clock  struck.     Two  ! 

"  Great  heavens  !  will  relief  never  come  ?  I  sought  the 
bench  in  the  middle  of  the  room  again.  Could  I  wrench  up 
a  portion  of  this  to  pry  my  way  out  in  some  unthought  of 
manner?  But  no  ;  it  was  as  firmly  rooted  as  St.  Theodore's 
pillar,  and  I  sank  down  panting  and  exhausted,  dropped  my 
now  fevered  brow  into  the  palms  of  my  hands,  and  tears  of 
nervous  grief  and  excitement  trickled  through  my  fingers. 
I  was  weak,  faint,  and  exhausted  from  want  of  nourishment, 
and  from  the  air,  which  was  hot,  close,  and  oppressive ; 
besides  which,  the  exertions  I  had  made  to  free  myself  from 
the  place,  the  excitement  attending  upon  the  terrible  dream, 


294  SUCCOR  AT  LAST. 

all  acting  upon  a  somewhat  nervous  temperament,  wore 
beo-iunint):  to  have  their  effect. 

"  I  sat,  I  know  not  how  long-,  in  a  half  dreaming  state  of 
stupor.  The  pictures  of  my  youth  all  ran  before  me  like  a 
vivid  panorama,  —  school,  school-fellows,  play-ground,  beau- 
tiful green  fields,  woods,  delicious  brooks  whose  waters  never 
looked  before  so  sweet  and  cool,  orchards  with  broad  boughs 
laden  with  tempting  fruit.  Then  again  the  scene  changed,  and 
the  tables  of  a  grand  feast  were  before  me,  in  an  empty 
banquet-hall ;  the  smoking  viands  made  the  mouth  to  water 
with  delightful  anticipations,  and  red  wine  sparkled  in  crys- 
tal glasses.  I  started  forward,  an  unbidden  guest,  to  the 
board,  but  was  held  back  by  an  invisible  power,  while  a 
voice  said  : 

"  '  What  would  you  ?     There  arc  no  guests  here  ?  ' 

"  '  There  is  no  one  here.'  I  seemed  to  hear  the  words 
with  startling  distinctness. 

"  '  No  one  here  I '  '  There  is  !  Good  God  !  Here  is  a 
man  shut  up  in  this  fearful  place  ! ' 

"  There  was  no  mistaking  this  sound  ;  I  was  dreaming  or 
insane.  Raising  ray  head  from  my  hands,  and  leaping  to 
my  feet,  my  eyes  wei'e  almost  dazzled  by  the  light  that 
poured  in  from  the  open  door  of  the  cell,  in  which  stood  a 
party  of  visitors,  two  ladies  and  two  gentlemen,  and  beside 
them  the  old  custodian. 

"  A  start  back,  a  faint  shriek  from  one  of  the  ladies,  and 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  from  one  of  the  men,  evinced 
their  surprise  at  my  unlocked  for  apparition. 

"  '  For  God's  sake,  save  me  —  you  speak  English  —  shut 
up  here  —  accident  —  save  me  ! '  cried  I  in  a  hoarse  whisper, 
and  fell  forward  in  a  dead  faint  at  their  very  feet. 

"  When  I  recovered  I  was  reclining  upon  a  great  settee 
or  sofa  in  the  Chamber  of  the  Council  of  Ten  ;  a  gentle 
sort  of  perfumed  breeze  seemed  to  be  playing  upon  my 
brow,  which  I  discovered  came  from  the  fan  of  one  of  my 
liberators ;  the  great  window  above  me  was  opened,  and  an 


THE    LUXURY    OF    LIBERTY.  295 

abuncUince  of  glorious  sunlight  poured  in  with  the  air 
through  the  casemeut.  The  old  custodian  came  breaking 
through  the  group  with  a  bottle  of  wine  that  he  had  run  to 
one  of  the  restaurants  in  the  square  for,  and  never  was  nec- 
tar more  delicious  than  the  first  glass  of  that  vin  ordinaire. 

"  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  was  sufficiently  recovered  to 
tell  a  portion  of  my  story,  but  I  shook  as  with  an  ague  fit 
from  nervous  agitation  ;  and  as  Dr.  Richetti,  who  had  been 
hastily  summoned,  arrived,  placed  his  cool  hand  upon  my 
brow,  and  felt  the  rapid  leaping  of  ray  pulse,  he  quietly 
commanded  a  postponement  of  further  particulars,  and  I 
was  half  carried,  half  led  across  the  Piazzetta  to  his  waiting 
gondola,  which  was  swiftly  rowed  to  my  hotel. 

"  Ah  !  the  luxury  of  the  cool  couch,  the  pleasant  subdued 
light  through  the  Venetian  awnings,  and  the  happy  sense  of 
liberty  that  I  experienced.  But  it  was  many  months  ere  I 
could  get  that  terrible  night  out  of  my  dreams,  and,  though 
more  than  six  years  have  elapsed,  yet  now  and  then  it  occa- 
sionally comes  before  me  in  dreamland.  And  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  the  boom  of  the  great  bell  of  the  clock-tower 
should  always  be  associated  in  my  mind  with  that  fearful 
twenty-four  hours'  imprisonment." 

My  friend  drew  a  long  breath,  and  with  an  involun- 
tary shudder,  as  the  bronze  bellman  beat  out  the  hour  of 
twelve,  he  wiped  the  drops  of  perspiration  from  his  brow, 
and,  as  our  gondolior  halted  at  the  steps  of  my  hotel,  bade 
good  night  with  the  promise  of  a  sequel  and  explanation  of 
the  strange  adventure,  over  our  coffee  and  cigarettes,  on 
the  morrow,  when  we  should  sit  in  the  Piazza,  in  front  of 
Florian's. 

The  granita  di  Umone  was  cool  and  refreshing  as  we  sat 
in  our  chairs  w^ell  out  into  the  square  in  front  of  the  restau- 
rant the  next  evening,  and  the  two  strolling  musicians  with 
mandolin  and  guitar  had  sung  a  pretty  Italian  melody  and 
been  well  rewarded  with  copper  coins,  and  we  were  both 
looking  up  at  the  deep,  glorious  blue  of  the  Italian  moonlit 


296  "sucn  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of." 

sl;y,  as  the  old  bell-tower  sentinels  beat  out  the  hour  of 
nine,  and  recalled  to  mind  the  story  of  the  preceding  night, 
and  I  reminded  the  narrator  of  his  promised  explanation. 

"  It  is  simple  enough,"  said  he.  "  If  you  will  believe  it, 
that  terrible  night's  experience  had  such  an  effect  upon  my 
nervous  organization  that  for  nearly  a  week  I  feared  to 
sleep,  it  so  perpetually  recurred  in  my  dreams,  and  for  the 
first  three  nights  the  doctor  furnished  me  with  a  watcher, 
and  I  was  kept  quiet  until  the  nervous  excitement  was 
allayed,  and  in  little  more  than  a  week's  time  sat  here  as 
we  are  now,  telling  the  leading  particulars  of  my  incarcera- 
tion to  Dr.  Richetti  one  afternoon,  and  accounting  for 
various  incidents  in  the  affair. 

"  M}'  previous  meditations  below  stairs  upon  old  Venetian 
tyranny,  the  snap  to  of  the  little  spring-latched  wicket  door, 
the  doctor  remarked,  had  put  the  current  of  thought  in 
proper  direction  for  the  dream  of  dungeon,  inquisitors,  and 
rack.  In  starting  from  the  dream  I  had  struck  my  hand 
against  the  half-opened  but  easily  swinging  door  of  the  cell, 
and  thereby  closed  it.  This  was  the  blow  at  the  guard  in 
the  dream,  and  the  door  opened  inwardly.  There  chanced 
to  be  no  visitors  who  cared  to  see  the  place  until  late,  hence 
the  delay  in  my  liberation  ;  and,  had  not  this  group  of 
Americans  desired  to  make  the  exploration,  I  might  have 
remained  there  another  night,  or  until  the  place  had  chanced 
to  be  visited. 

"  As  the  doctor  and  myself  were  then  chatting,  a  young 
Italian  gentleman  came  towards  where  we  were  sitting,  and, 
bowing  to  the  doctor,  who  was  an  acquaintance,  begged 
pardon  in  the  Italian  tongue  for  the  interruption,  and  said 
that  he  wished  the  ph^ysician,  as  he  understood  English,  to 
translate  for  him  a  little  billet-doux  in  that  language  that 
had  fluttered  to  his  feet,  he  knew  not  from  where,  as  he 
came  from  his  gondola  through  the  Piazctta.  He  handed 
what  appeared  to  be  a  small  bit  of  gilt-edged  paper  to  the 
doctor. 


THE    LADY   IN    THE    CASE.  297 

"  The  latter  unfolded  it,  read  it,  laughed,  and  looked 
towards  myself  as  his  interrogator  stood,  cigarette  in  hand, 
awaiting  an  answer  with  some  anxiety. 

"  'Listen,'  said  the  doctor;  'this  is  the  translation,'  and 
he  read  in  Italian  one  of  the  messages  I  had  pencilled  a  week 
before,  and  thrown  out  of  the  dungeon-window.  'But  there 
is  no  need  of  any  help  now,'  said  he  to  his  astonished  friend ; 
'  permit  mo  to  present  you  to  the  prisoner  who  has  been 
rescued.'  This  was  the  third  of  my  aerial  billets-doux  which 
had  been  picked  up  since  my  release  ;  one  in  French,  had 
gone  to  the  police,  who,  before  its  finding,  having  heard  of 
my  adventure,  had  directed  the  custodian  to  put  a  stronger 
lock  on  the  lower  staircase  lattice-door,  and  never  to  leave 
the  building  without  visiting  the  cells ;  and  the  other  in  bad 
Italian  was  discussed  by  a  group  at  one  of  the  cafe,  tables 
as  a  clever  attempt  of  some  Englishman  to  play  a  practical 
joke." 

"  But,  the  lady  in  the  group,  she  that  fanned  you  after 
rescue,  by  all  the  rules  of  romance  you  should  have  been 
married  to  her,"  said  I. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  my  companion  ;  "  never  saw  her  but  once 
after,  and  then  only  by  a  singular  circumstance  recognized 
her.  The  carriage  of  a  party  of  which  I  was  one  took  us  to 
visit  the  Capuchin  church  vaults  in  Vienna,  and  halted  at 
the  church  entrance.  As  we  descended,  another  party  that 
had  but  just  been  below,  guided  by  the  old  friar  with  his 
candle,  came  out. 

"  '  Ugh  !  a  gloomy  place  :  seems  like  being  released  from 
a  prison  to  get  into  the  sunlight  again,'  said  one  of  the 
sight-seers,  as  they  were  taking  their  places  in  their  car- 
riage. 

"  'Yes,  indeed,'  said  a  lady's  A^oice;  'but  did  you  ever 
hear  how  Kate  and  I  released  a  gentleman  from  a  dungeon 
in  the  Ducal  Palace  at  Venice  ?  ' 

"  '  No,  indeed  ;  how  was  it  ?  ' 

"  I   turned   sharply  round   at  this,  but  the   door  of  the 


298  THE    ARSENAL    AT    VENICE. 

carriage  clapped  to  at  that  moment.  I  merely  caught 
the  words,  '  VVhy,  you  see — /  and  I  only  saw  a  carriage 
load  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  roll  away  with  the  blue  ribbons 
of  the  speaker's  Paris  hat  fluttering  like  farewell  streamers 
in  the  breeze." 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

I  COULD  not  leave  Venice  without  visiting  the  Arsenal, 
a  place  all-important  in  her  history  of  maritime  greatness, 
and  which  was  for  a  long  time  the  most  celebrated  and 
extensive  navy-yard  in  the  world.  It  is  formed  by  a  number 
of  small  islands,  which  are  connected  together  by  bridges, 
and  surrounded  by  a  wall  of  two  miles  in  circumference. 

In  the  somewhat  brief  visit  wc  made  to  this  noted  place, 
one  could  not  help  noticing  what  evidences  this  great  work 
still  displayed  of  the  former  naval  strength  and  commercial 
power  of  the  great  maritime  republic.  The  spot  seems  to 
have  been  admirably  chosen  for  the  purposes  designed,  and 
of  course  the  natural  advantages  must  have  been  much 
improved  since  its  foundation  in  1320.  The  great  basins, 
dry  and  wet  docks  for  vessels,  and  vast  warehouses,  work- 
shops, massive  piers,  besides  constructions  for  ancient  work 
now  useless,  astonish  the  visitor.  The  rope-walk  here,  with 
one  exception,  that  of  Toulon  in  France,  is  said  to  be  the 
largest  in  Europe,  and  is  1038  feet  in  length,  the  building 
being  upheld  by  ninety-two  pillars  of  Doric  architecture. 

Wc  were  rowed  down  to  the  landing  as  near  as  prac- 
ticable to  this  grand  remnant  of  Venetian  power,  and,  after 
landing,  approached  the  principal  entrance,  pausing  to  look 
at  the  battletnented  walls,  the  great  square  castle-like  clock- 
tower  on  one  side,  the  marble  lions  in  front,  and  the  marble 
statues  of  Neptune,  Mars,  and    four  or  five  other  figures 


EEMNANT    OF    A    GREAT    POWER.  299 

surmounting  the  ornamental  pillars  before  the  great  arch- 
way above,  upon  which  is  the  figure  of  the  inevitable  winged 
lion,  with  the  golden  book  between  his  paws,  and  upon  the 
summit  of  the  pillars  before  and  behind  liim  two  large  balls, 
or  globes.  This  gateway,  as  an  inscription  on  one  of  the 
pillars  tells  us,  was  made  in  1460,  Before  going  in  we 
pause  to  look  at  the  stone  lions  that  guard  the  entrance, 
not  from  any  beaut}'  they  possess,  for  they  are  clumsy 
effigies,  but  because  they  were  brought  from  the  Pelopon- 
nesus in  1685,  and  because  one,  which  has  inscriptions  cut 
upon  it  that  are  untranslatable,  is  said  to  be  a  memorial  of 
the  battle  of  Marathon. 

We  pass  in  at  the  entrance,  present  our  permit,  and,  after 
inscribing  our  names  upon  the  book  of  registration,  are 
given  in  charge  of  one  of  the  guards,  who,  courteous,  polite, 
and  patient,  allows  us  to  stroll  pretty  much  at  will  and 
spend  as  much  time  in  examination  and  sight-seeing  as  we 
desire  ;  a  proceeding  somewhat  unusual  on  the  part  of  such 
officials,  but  in  this  case,  I  presume,  a  matter  of  semblance 
of  military  authority  to  see  that  visitors  conduct  themselves 
properly,  pry  into  no  forbidden  places,  and  do  not  steal  or 
carry  off  any  relics. 

It  is  said  the  French  destroyed  many  important  portions 
of  the  works  of  the  Venetian  Arsenal,  and  carried  away 
many  of  its  treasures  and  antiquities,  but  enough  remains, 
even  at  this  late  day,  to  indicate  what  an  enormous  work 
must  have  been  carried  on  here  at  the  height  of  Venetian 
commercial  supremacy,  when  there  were  employed  nearly 
sixteen  thousand  laborers,  besides  women,  to  cut  and  sew 
sails.  In  the  earlier  period  here  was  whei-e  the  great 
Venetian  war  galleys  were  built  and  repaired,  some  of  them 
over  two  hundred  feet  in  length,  and  capable  of  accom- 
modating a  thousand  men.  These  vessels,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, were  propelled  by  rowers,  sailors,  and  galley  slaves, 
some  by  double  banks  of  oars  ;  and  a  naval  engagement  in 
the  days  of  those  craft  was  a  very  different  affair  from  that 


300  MARITIME    IMPORTANCE    OF    VENICE. 

of  modern  times  ;  for  then  they  ranged  their  ships  along- 
side the  enem}^  and  the  battle  became  a  hand-to-hand  fight, 
requiring  more  exercise  of  brute  courage  than  seamanship. 
The  commandei-s  selected  were  also  those  noted  as  bold  and 
successful  soldiers  :  indeed,  a  sole  dependence  on  maritime 
tactics  would  have  been  disastrous  in  the  extreme. 

I  find,  by  consulting  authorities,  that  at  one  period  Venice 
had  the  carrying  trade  between  Europe  and  tlie  East,  and  in 
the  thirteenth  century  she  had  more  than  three  thousand 
vessels  sailing  un'der  lier  flag.  In  the  palmy  days  of  the  re- 
public, during  time  of  peace,  there  were  thirty  of  the  national 
vessels  chartered  by  private  individuals,  each  of  which 
transported  cargoes  of  the  value  of  sixty  thousand  pounds 
sterling.  It  was  in  this  arsenal,  or  navy-yard,  that  the 
practice  of  building  or  repairing  vessels  under  cover  was 
first  introduced  ;  and  there  still  remain  nearly  a  hundred  of 
these  dry  docks,  although  the  two  or  three  that  I  visited, 
unlike  the  ship-houses  in  the  American  navy-yards,  con- 
tained no  rotting,  unfinished  hulls  of  past  administrations. 
It  appears,  however,  when  the  French  took  possession,  they 
found  vessels  unfinished  that  had  been  on  the  stocks  seven- 
ty-five years,  construction  having  stopped  owing  to  lack  of 
materi.d  and  the  decadence  of  the  state.  Some  of  the  great 
ship-houses  appear  to  have  been  turned  into  warehouses, 
and  others  are  doubtless  pulled  down.  There  may  still 
remain  ancient  fragments  in  some  ;  but  if  so,  I  did  not  push 
my  investigations  far  enough  to  find  them,  for  the  sun  was 
hot,  and,  after  ascertaining  that  besides  these  dry,  there  were 
eight  wet  docks,  I  made  for  the  more  interesting  part  of  the 
place,  which  is  the  Armory. 

This  contains  a  large  collection  of  ancient  and  curious 
weapons  of  war  and  military  trophies.  Among  these  is  the 
suit  of  armor  of  Henry  IV.  of  France,  given  by  him  to 
the  republic  in  1603.  All  sorts  of  helmets,  cuirasses,  swords, 
magnificent  Toledo  blades,  and  others  of  marvellous  work- 
manship, with   inlaid  Damascene  blades  and  hilts ',   carved 


ANCIENT  ARMOR  AND  WONDROUS  WEAPONS.     £01 

cimeters  captured  from  the  Turks,  and  great  boardiiig'-pikes 
that  mig-ht  be  used  in  thrusting  at  the  enemy  as  the  galleys 
ranged  alongside.  Specimens  of  the  steel  crossbow  and 
bolts,  and  even  the  ordinary  bow  and  skin  quivers,  with 
arrows  still  in  them,  hung  upon  the  walls  with  maces, 
curious  battle-axes,  and  wondrous  armor. 

In  the  centre  of  the  hall  was  a  mounted  figure  ;  man  and 
horse  sheathed  in  mail  of  elegant  workmanship  of  Milanese 
steel,  and  the  armor  of  Doge  Ziani,  who  flourished  in  1176. 
Among  the  trophies  displayed  on  the  walls,  one  which  is 
especially  noteworthy  is  the  great  flag  of  the  Turkish  ad- 
miral, taken  at  the  celebrated  battle  of  Lepanto,  gained  by 
the  Venetian  and  Spanish  fieets  over  the  Turks,  October  7, 
1571,  and  in  which  fight  Cervantes,  author  of  "  Don  Quixote," 
was  wounded.  Displayed  near  it  is  the  armor  of  Sebastian 
Yeniez,  captain-general  at  Lepanto,  also  that  of  Augustus 
Barberigo,  and  a  Tunisian  banner  and  a  Turkish  flag  taken 
at  Friuli  in  1172. 

Here  again  we  are  reminded  that  the  American  revolving 
pistol  is  no  modern  invention,  for  among  the  collection  of 
fire-arms  is  a  revolving  pistol  said  to  have  been  invented  in 
the  fifteenth  century.  Talk  about  revolvers  and  metrail- 
leuses  !  Why,  here  we  saw  a  five-barrelled  cannon  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  and  another  of  the  same  time,  which,  as 
far  as  exterior  examination  went,  was  a  w^ell-made  and 
effective  weapon,  that  was  a  sixteen-barreller.  The  collec- 
tion of  cannon  in  this  armory  is  said  to  have  been  very  fine, 
but,  like  many  other  portions  of  the  collection,  it  was  taken 
away  or  nearly  broken  up  by  the  French  when  they  came 
into  possession  under  Napoleon,  as  above  noted. 

There  are  still  a  few  specimens  of  elegant  and  curious 
antique  workmanship.  One  is  a  gun,  made  apparentl}^  of 
steel,  and  elegantly  ornamented  with  inwrought  gold  leaves, 
vines,  and  other  ornaments.  Tlie  muzzle  is  a  griffin's  head, 
from  the  open  mouth  of  which  poured  forth  the  deadly  fire 
of  destruction   upon   the   foe.      Near  the  vent  arranged  for 


802  THE    BUCENTAUE. 

purposes  of  a  sight  was  a  miniature  figure  of  a  cavalier, 
with  drawn  sword,  astride  the  back  of  a  dragon.  Other 
specimens  of  fire-arms,  rude  in  invention  and  beautiful  in 
workmanship,  weapons  such  as  swords,  pistols,  and  battle- 
axes,  that  had  belonged  to  Italian  captains  who  had  won 
honor  in  the  service  of  the  republic,  were  displayed  on  the 
Willis  or  in  cases  ;  and  the  theatrical-looking  seat  used  by 
the  Doge  when  visiting  the  Arsenal  was  among  the  curios- 
ities displayed. 

Another  interesting  department  is  the  model  room,  which 
contains  models  of  all  kinds  of  water-craft  from  the  ancient 
galley  down  to  the  modern  frigate.  Here  are  displayed 
fragments  of  old  galleys  that  have  served  in  action,  their 
beaks  or  prows ;  fragments  of  galleys  captured  from  the 
Turks  ;  a  fragment  of  the  last  Bucentaur,  or  state  galley,  in 
which  the  Doge  was  wont  to  go  in  great  pomp  and  state 
for  the  ceremony  of  marrying  the  Adriatic.  The  last  Vene- 
tian Bucentaur  perished  in  179V.  It  was  a  gorgeous  state 
barge,  and  must  have  almost  rivalled  Cleopatra's  in  magni- 
ficence, for  the  gilding  alone  cost  more  than  forty  thousand 
dollars.  The  model  of  it  preserved  in  this  museum  shows 
it  to  have  been  a  gorgeous  affair,  elegantly  carved,  decorated, 
and  gilded  in  every  possible  part  visible  to  the  eye.  Two 
hundred  rowers  propelled  it,  and  upon  its  different  lofty 
decks  were  grand  saloons,  place  for  a  full  band  of  musicians, 
servants,  sailors,  soldiers,  and  noblemen.  This  grand  vessel 
was  not  rowed  by  ordinary  sailors  or  galley  slaves,  but  by 
a  picked  body  of  men  who  were  proud  of  the  service,  and 
who  enjoyed  peculiar  privileges  from  the  state  for  this  and 
other  guard  and  maritime  duty  performed  by  them  at  the 
Arsenal,  and  in  behalf  of  various  state  dignitaries.  The 
plans,  sectional  drawings  and  curious  models  of  antique 
naval  architecture  that  are  displayed  here,  must  be  a  most 
int(!resting  study  to  those  who  are  familiar  in  the  least  with 
ship-building.  The  relics  of  old  battles  and  mementos  of 
the  warlike  prowess   of  the  Venetians  in  many  cases  were 


VERONA.  303 

unfamiliar  to  myself,  and  the  guide-books  give  only  a  meagre 
explanation,  or  none  at  all,  of  who  many  great  captains, 
whoso  names  ended  with  an  %,  were,  and  so  we  pass  numbers 
of  these  trophies  with  but  a  glance. 

But  the  glories  of  Venice  are  a  story  of  the  past,  and 
this  great  arsenal,  with  its  docks  and  piers,  like  the  Colos- 
seum in  Rome,  serves  to  show,  by  its  very  immensity,  as  a 
skeleton  of  other  days,  what  must  have  been  the  power  that 
called  it  into  being  and  once  clothed  it  with  life  and  activity. 


Verona  !  the  very  aroma  of  Shakspcare's  plays  seemed 
to  be  in  the  atmosphere  as  we  rolled  in  a  rattling  old  vehicle 
through  its  streets,  and  remembered  Valentine  and  Proteus, 
the  two  gentlemen  of  Verona,  and  looked  with  interest  at  a 
ragged,  unkempt  cur,  wondering  if  he  was  a  descendant  of 
Launce's  dog,  as  our  carriage  whirled  past  the  broad  en- 
trance to  a  great  church  into  which  a  straggling  crowd 
of  worshippers  were  going  to  some  vesper  service,  for  the 
air  was  as  filled  with  the  clangor  of  bells  as  an  American 
city  on  the  morning  of  the  celebration  of  Independence  day. 
Close  by  the  church  was  a  gateway  :  through  it  we  drove, 
and  wei'e  in  the  courtyard  and  front  of  the  hospitable  door 
of  the  Hotel  of  Two  Towers. 

The  first  thing  a  tired  tourist  does  on  obtaining  a  good 
room  and  performing  his  ablutions  after  a  long  railroad  ride, 
is  to  test  the  cuisine  of  the  hotel.  At  some  Italian  liotels, 
the  perfume,  as  well  as  the  use  of  garlic  is  intolerable,  and 
it  is  necessary  to  forbid  any  flavoring  with  it,  but  in  a  house 
like  this  we  were  fortunate.  The  host  set  a  table  that  was 
clean  and  well  served,  and  his  cooking  was  more  English 
than  Italian,  for  we  had  chops,  yes,  genuine  chops,  well 
cooked,  eggs  that  were  fresh,  soup  that  was  rich  and  not 
greasy,  and  bread  that  was  sweet ;  the  latter  something  to 
be  thankful  for  by  those  wlio  have  endured  the  Florentine 
abomination.  The  refreshing  effect  of  the  viands  of  the 
Hotel  of  Two  Towers,  and  the  spacious  room  to  which  we 


304  STREET    SCENES. 

were  assigned,  with  its  windows  commanding'  a  view  of 
nearly  half  a  mile  of  street  directly  in  front,  and  the  broad 
entrance  to  the  great  church  at  one  side,  coupled  with  the 
civility  of  the  chief  clerk,  who  spoke  English,  may  have 
prejudiced  me  in  favor  of  the  house,  for  certainly  it  was 
one  of  comfort  after  the  long  railroad  ride  from  Venice. 

The  hotel  was  built  with  those  open  piazzas  or  galleries, 
inclosing  its  court-yard,  where  carriages  and  post-stages 
drove  in,  and  was  probably  the  starting-point  of  the  great 
diligences  before  the  days  of  railroad  communication.  The 
weather  was  warm,  and  open  windows  the  rule  after  the  sun 
had  gone  down  ;  and,  as  we  sat  at  ours,  and  looked  down 
from  our  three-storied  height  into  the  square  below,  we 
observed  real  activity  begin.  The  street  became  more 
and  more  thronged  with  pedestrians  ;  gossipy  groups  met 
as  by  common  consent  together  in  knots  here  and  there 
before  the  great  church.  The  proprietor  of  a  wine-shop 
brought  out  half  a  dozen  tables,  and  twice  that  number  of 
chairs,  and  placed  them  on  the  pavement  in  front  of  his 
door ;  and  ere  long  two  white-jacketed  waiters  were  flitting 
hither  and  thither  among  the  groups  that  surrounded  them, 
and  the  clink  of  glasses  and  glow-worm-like  sparkle'  of 
lighted  cigar-tips  below  told  that  the  real  business  of  the 
day  was  flourishing.  There  was  a  hum  and  chatter  of  voices 
of  men  and  women  ;  children  raced  and  played  in  the  cool 
evening  air  about  the  church-door  ;  and  the  whole  scene 
and  its  bustle  and  clatter  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
quiet  that  we  had  so  lately  left.  There,  when  the  sun  went 
down,  the  liquid  higliway  of  the  Grand  Canal,  which  our 
apartments  overlooked,  gave  forth  no  sound  of  pattering 
feet  or  noisy  voices,  except  now  and  then  as  a  dark  gondola 
glided  by  with  a  gay  party,  whose  tones  were  soon  lost  in 
the  distance. 

"  I  wonder  what  time  these  people  retire  to  bed,"  thought 
I,  as  I  rose  from  my  couch  after  two  hours'  inefiectual  effort 
to  woo  the   drowsy  god,  owing  to  the  clatter   below,  and, 


THE    ROISTERERS    OF   VERONA.  305 

looking  at  my  watch,  found  it  to  be  past  midnight.  I 
looked  out.  The  crowd  had  diminished,  but  there  were 
still  dark  knots  in  the  square.  Only  two  or  three  of  the 
wine-shop  man's  tables  were  now  occupied,  but  the  glasses 
had  evidently  clinked  to  some  purpose,  for  the  argument 
going  on  was  fierce  and  vehement,  with  all  that  extrava- 
gant gesture  that  Frenchman  and  Italian  throw  into  a  dis- 
cussion ;  and  the  rattle  of  tongues  promised  to  abbreviate 
for  me  that  necessary  refreshment  after  a  tiresome  journey, 
a  good  night's  sleep,  so  much  that  I  began  to  question  the 
judgment  which  located  the  hotel,  wine-shop,  and  square  in 
such  proximity.  The  discussion  at  the  wine-shop  half  an 
hour  later  culminated  in  a  squabble,  and  the  proprietor  or 
police  had  to  preserve  the  peace  ;  the  tables  were  taken  in, 
and  now  all  was  quiet  except  the  patter  of  feet  of  numerous 
pedestrians  passing  and  repassing.  It  really  seems  as  if 
the  people  in  these  warm  climates  are  in  the  streets  the 
most  part  of  the  night  during  the  summer  season  (it  was 
now  June),  and  took  their  sleep  during  the  day. 

It  was  now  two  a.  m.,  and  young  Verona  was  beginning 
to  go  home  for  the  night.  Either  the  young  bloods  of  Flor- 
ence and  Verona  break  forth  into  music  when  Bacchus  pleni, 
or  when  returning  from  opera  or  soiree  musicale  at  these  (to 
us)  unseasonable  hours,  for  they  are  all  singing,  loudly 
singing.  These  gay  bloods  sing  not  as  a  noisy  fellow  even, 
in  America,  but  distance  anything  I  ever  heard  in  strength 
of  lung  and  power  of  expression.  This  may  be  from  the  fact 
that  some  of  them  have  trained  musical  instruction. 

Fancy  a  young  fellow  with  a  powerful  tenor  voice  passing 
through  the  quiet  street  singing  at  his  highest  register  as  if 
striving  to  drown  an  oi'chestra,  and  continuing  on,  his  shouts 
reaching  j^ou  nearly  half  a  mile  away  after  he  has  passed, 
only  to  bo  succeeded  by  three  more,  who  arm  in  arm  pass, 
roaring  an  operatic  chorus  as  if  their  lungs  and  throats  Avere 
of  brass.  Then  come  a  couple  more,  one  Avith  a  guitar,  either 
going  to  or  returning  from  a  serenade,  and  improving  the 
20 


306  THE    MONTAGUES   AND    CAPULETS. 

walk  by  a  fiong,  fortissimo.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  me  these 
gentlemen  of  Verona  thought  that  street  singing,  like  street 
music,  should  be  of  the  loudest  possible  description,  as  I 
tossed  uneasily  on  ray  couch  till  tired  nature  at  last  suc- 
cumbed, and  I  slumbered. 

I  was  aroused  by  a  peal  and  clangor  of  bells  that  brought 
me  into  a  sufficient  sense  of  wide-awakativeness  that,  as  an 
American,  I  involuntarily  listened  for  the  firing  of  cannon 
and  explosion  of  fire-crackers,  which  "  usher  in  "  Indepen- 
dence day;  and  then,  as  none  came,  I  recollected  I  was  in 
this  land  of  bell-ringing,  as  the  clangor  went  on  for  ten 
minutes  or  more,  and  found  on  consultation  of  my  watch 
tl)at  they  were  ringing  for  five-o'clock  mass.  I  had  enjoyed 
two  hours'  slumber  only.  At  length  the  din  ceased,  and, 
dozing  off  again,  I  was  once  more  roused,  half  past  five  ; 
and  so  on  with  this  infernal  din,  until  seven  o'clock.  The 
incessant  clangor  of  bells  is  one  of  the  nuisances  in  Italian 
cities,  especially  at  early  morning,  if  one  is  easily  roused 
and  desires  rest,  but,  like  some  other  annoyances,  soon  come 
to  be  disregarded  as  one  gets  thoroughly  seasoned  as  a 
tourist. 

The  Montagues  and  the  Capulets  !  We  thought  of  them 
as  we  halted  and  looked  about  in  a  quaint,  almost  deserted 
old  street  that  in  the  quiet  sunshine  seemed  like  one  of  those 
scenes  set  on  the  theatrical  stage,  where  the  combat  of  Mer- 
cutio,  Tybalt,  and  Romeo  took  place. 

"  Would  Monsieur  like  to  see  Juliet's  house  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  Drive  us  to  Juliet's  house,  to  Juliet's  bal- 
cony." 

Wo  remembered  that  "  the  oi'chard  walls  were  high  and 
hard  to  climb,"  as  the  fair  Juliet  had  told  her  lover,  and 
called  to  mind  the  engravings  of  Italian  terraced  gardens 
with  plashing  fountains,  flower  vases,  and  marble  steps. 
We  thought  of  the  balconied  window  of  the  marble  palace 
from  which  the  fair  Juliet  looked  forth  upon  the  quiet  night, 
and  'neath  which  Romeo,  "  who  with  love's  light  wings  did 


Juliet's  balcony.  307 

o'cr-perch  these  walls,"  had  sworn  by  "  the  moon  that  tips 
with  silver  all  these  fruit-tree  tops." 

So  when  our  carriage  drew  up  inside  an  old  inclosed 
street  or  court-yard,  shabby  and  dirty,  and  the  driver  pointed 
to  the  carving  of  a  cardinal's  hat  over  an  archway  as  part 
of  the  armorial  bearings  of  the  Capulet  family,  we  had  the 
impression  from  the  surroundings  that  we  had  halted  in  an 
old  stable-yard,  or  opposite  a  third-rate  Italian  inn. 

This  old  brick  or  stone  edifice,  with  two  dirty,  lounging 
men  smoking  in  the  shade  of  an  angle  of  a  staircase,  and  a 
slattern,  sore-eyed  woman  with  a  baby  in  her  arms,  who  came 
and  asked  alms  of  us,  an  old  ruined  cart,  and  a  heap  of  rub- 
bish for  surroundings,  —  and  that  old  rounded  window,  — 
Juliet's  balcony  !  —  a  flannel  shirt  was  hanging  out  from  it 
to  dry,  —  and  the  smell  of  garlic,  too  —  faugli  !  How  glori- 
ous garden,  perfume  of  flowers,  plashing  fountains,  and  fra- 
grant orchards  vanished  like  a  vision  of  romance  as  they 
were,  as  our  carriage  rolled  out  of  the  Via  Capello,  and  we 
rode  to  the  garden  said  to  contain  the  gentle  Juliet's  tomb. 

There  is  not  quite  so  rude  a  shock  to  the  imagination 
here.  We  halt  beside  the  dead  wall  of  a  large  garden,  and 
an  old  woman  coming  from  a  house  near  the  gate,  unlocks 
it,  and  we  follow  her  along  the  long  broad  path  at  one  side 
of  the  garden,  above  which  a  pleasant  shade  was  formed  by 
overarching  trellised  grape-vines.  Turning  at  right  angles 
from  our  path  at  the  furthermost  corner  of  the  garden,  we 
readied  a  sort  of  cheap,  two-story  brick  shed.  Three  simple 
arches  formed  the  lower  story,  the  middle  one  forming  a 
door,  open  except  a  protection  of  light  iron  grating,  and 
contained  what  we  were  asked  to  believe  was  the  sar- 
cophagus of  Juliet,  and  which  looked  like  an  old  shoe-shaped 
sort  of  stone  trough,  the  length  of  which  suggested  that  the 
gentle  Veronese  must  have  been  short  in  stature. 

The  garrulous  old  woman,  our  guide,  told  us  this  chapel 
was  not  the  real  location  of  the  tomb  ;  but  leading  us  to  a 
spot  in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  said  here  stood  the  tomb 


308  TOMB    OF    THE   CAPULETS. 

of  the  Capulets,  and  plucking  a  bit  of  geranium  from  the 
spot,  stuck  it  in  my  button-hole.  Here  we  were  told  Juliet's 
sarcophagus  long  stood  as  a  washing-trough  till  the  con- 
tinued visits  of  tourists  gave  it  such  value  that  it  was  re- 
moved and  enshrined  as  we  saw  it. 

Whether  we  have  stood  upon  the  spot  occupied  by  the 
much-mentioned  Tomb  of  the  Capulets  we  are  doubtful ;  but, 
if  an  imaginative  mind  desires  to  have  the  dream  of  romance 
that  has  been  incited  by  one  of  the  most  charming  creations 
of  the  bard  of  Avon  taken  out  of  it,  one  cannot  have  it  more 
effectually  done,  or  his  sensibilities  receive  a  ruder  shock, 
than  starting  for  picturesque  mementos  of  this  romantic  love 
story,  and  encountering  what  is  pointed  out  as  all  that  re- 
mains of  it  in  Verona, 

The  dream  of  youth,  the  hopes  of  j^ears,  the  keen  delight 
of  anticipation  and  desire,  ended  in  fruition  when  I  stood  in 
the  centre  of  the  vast  arena  of  Rome's  Flavian  Amphithea- 
tre, and  repeopled  it  with  the  hundred  thousand  eager  and 
expectant  spectators,  as  thoughts  flew  back  to  the  past ;  while 
a  visit  to  the  Amphitheatre  in  Verona  took  more  of  a  prac- 
tical than  an  imaginative  turn,  for  here  the  general  features 
have  been  carefully  and  sacredly  preserved.  The  ravages 
of  the  earthquake  and  the  never-failing  tooth  of  time  have 
told  upon  the  structure,  but  the  great  tier  upon  tier  of  mar- 
ble scats  still  remain,  with  the  vaultings  of  Roman  brick- 
work beneath  them  perfect  and  entire,  and  the  building  has 
been  carefully  protected,  and  from  time  to  time  restored  at 
various  points. 

You  may  go  down  to  the  arena  and  to  the  arches,  and 
see  where  were  the  wild  beasts'  dens  and  the  gladiators' 
entrances,  pass  round  and  examine  the  admirable  arrange- 
ments for  entrance  and  exit  of  the  audience,  walk  through 
corridors  and  up  staircases,  and,  having  fresh  in  recollec- 
tion the  ruins  of  the  Roman  Colosseum,  may  be  able  to  fill 
out  the  wanting  fragments  in  that  vast  ruin.  The  founder 
of  the  latter   is   known,  but   the   founder   of  the  Veronese 


THE    VEROXA    AMPHITHEATRE.  309 

Amphitheatre,  or  the  year  in  which  it  was  erected,  is  un- 
known :  it  is  only  supposed  to  have  been  built  about  a.  d.  85. 

The  theatre  is  built  of  Verona  marble,  formed  a  grand 
circle  of  fourteen  hundred  and  thirty  feet,  and  was  originally 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  height  from  the  pave- 
ment. There  were  originally  seventy-two  arches  of  the 
outer  ring  (eight  less  than  in  the  Colosseum),  but,  notwith- 
standing all  the  care  that  has  been  taken  to  preserve  the 
structure,  dating  back  to  edicts  in  r228,  but  four  of  the 
original  outer  arches,  accoi-ding  to  a  guide-book  I  found  at 
my  hotel  on  returning,  have  been  preserved.  If  this  be  so, 
what  I  took  for  the  real  outer  row  must  have  been  mainly 
restorations. 

There  was  one  set  of  arches,  however,  that  there  was  no 
disputing  the  antiquity  of,  and  that  was  the  only  remaining 
four  of  the  topmost  tier  that  ran  its  graceful  circle  round 
the  whole  structure,  a  hundred  feet  above  the  pavement. 
This  fragment  was  all  that  was  spared  by  the  earthquake 
that  toppled  the  rest  to  the  ground  nearly  seven  hundred 
years  ago.  But  over  this,  according  to  historical  authority, 
there  was  a  fourth  story  of  lesser  arches  going  completely 
round  the  building,  so  that  the  whole  structure  must  have 
been  at  least  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  height. 

Inside,  and  we  have  the  grand  entrances  and  tiers  of  seats 
preserved  or  restored  so  completely  that  quite  a  correct  idea 
may  be  had  of  what  the  structure  really  was  in  its  prime. 
We  climbed  to  the  top  and  looked  down  into  the  arena,  an 
ellipse  two  hundred  and  sixty-three  feet  long  by  one  hun- 
dred and  forty-six  feet  wide,  surrounded  by  its  rings  of  mar- 
ble benches,  of  which  I  counted  forty-two,  one  above  the 
other  to  the  top,  and  was  informed  that  there  were  two 
more  rows  sunk  beneath  the  present  level  of  the  arena ;  and, 
when  we  descended,  the  guide  showed  us,  by  means  of  an 
aperture  in  the  present  flooring,  through  which  he  thrust  a 
pole,  that  the  i*eal  arena  was  several  feet  below  the  present 
surface.     We  were   also  shown  the  ruins  of  an  old  aque- 


310  MODERN  PERFORMANCE   IN   AXCIENT   CIRCUS. 

duct,  used,  it  was  said,  to  flood  the  arena  when  naval  spec- 
tacles or  combats  were  to  be  presented.  The  ancient 
benches  in  the  auditorium  appeared  to  have  been  vast 
blocks  of  marble,  accurately  cut  and  jointed  into  perfect 
rings  of  masonry,  but  the  restorations  are  of  stone,  of  a 
more  perishable  or  flaky  nature.  Each  row  of  seats  was 
about  one  and  a  half  feet  in  height,  and  of  the  same  breadth, 
with  about  a  foot  and  a  half  space  allowed  for  each  specta- 
tor ;  of  course,  no  backs  to  any  seats,  unless,  perchance, 
curule  chairs,  or  other  movable  seats,  occupied  the  podium 
for  sediles,  prefects,  consuls,  and  other  privileged  patricians. 

At  one  end,  railed  ofF,  a  portion  of  the  arena  was  occu- 
pied, when  we  visited  it,  by  a  temporary  structure,  which 
had  a  small  stage  before  it,  upon  which,  we  were  informed, 
an  exhibition  of  jugglery  and  gymnastics  was  to  take  place  ; 
and  the  audience  of  about  two  hundred  persons  wore  sitting 
upon  the  same  stone  seats  from  which,  a  thousand  years  be- 
fore, their  ancestors  looked  down  upon  the  fierce  contests 
of  furious  beasts  or  still  more  cruel  gladiators,  who  fought 
each  other  with  deadly  fury.  This  audience,  of  two  hun- 
dred spectators  or  so,  looked  absurdly  small,  gathered,  as  it 
was,  at  one  end  of  the  great  ellipse,  —  something  like  a 
little  cluster  of  flies  at  the  corner  of  a  table-cloth,  for  the 
capacity  of  the  interior  is  for  about  twenty-five  thousand 
spectators.  So,  while  this  little  knot  were  patiently  listen- 
ing to  an  orchestra  of  three  pieces  that  was  industriously 
playing  a  preliminary  overture,  we  turned  and  took  such 
a  view  of  the  city  as  we  could  from  the  topmost  tier,  and 
looked  down  into  the  adjoining  square,  laid  out  in  such  fan- 
ciful figures  as  to  remind  one  of  a  kaleidoscope,  and,  after 
one  more  farewell  sweep  of  the  eye  over  tho  grand  ellipse 
of  the  interior,  descended. 

A  short  drive  brought  us  to  a  narrow  thoroughfare,  in 
and  near  which  stood  the  monuments  of  the  Delia  Scala 
family  (Scaligeri)  ;  and  one  circumstance  that  redounds  to 
the  credit  of  the  Veronese,  or  maybe  to  that  of  their  ene- 


BELLA    SCALA   FAMILY    MONUMENTS.  311 

mies,  is,  that  these  sumptuous  monuments  to  the  lords  of 
Verona  have  been  so  well  preserved  as  they  are,  notwith- 
standing they  are  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  some  of 
them  have  stood  in  a  narrow  and  crowded  thoroughfare  for 
more  than  iive  hundred  years,  that  has  been  the  scene  of 
frequent  conflicts.  The  monuments  are  very  elaborate. 
That  which  first  claimed  our  attention  was,  of  course,  that 
of  Can  Grande,  which  signifies  the  Great  Dog,  though,  for 
what  reason  he  was  called  by  that  canine  title,  history  is 
silent.  Nevertheless,  it  was  he  that  afforded  the  poet  Dante 
pi'otection,  and  the  poet  immortalized  him  in  the  seventeenth 
canto  of  his  "  Paradino,"  referring  to  his  as  — 

"  •  •  •  the  great  Lombard's  courtesy,  who  bears 
Upon  the  ladder  perclied,  the  sacred  bird ;  " 

and  in  a  dozen  or  more  lines,  which,  as  all  the  guide-books 
quote,  I  will  not ;  but  which  lines  have  done  more  to  pre- 
serve the  "great  Lombard's"  name  since  his  death,  in 
1329,  than  his  costly  monument,  which  forms  a  sort  of  por- 
tico, as  it  were,  to  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Antica. 

This  monument,  or  portico,  consists  of  three  sections,  sup- 
ported by  handsome  columns,  with  elaborately  wrought  capi- 
tals. First  are  figures  of  dogs,  with  the  ladder  and  shield,  — 
armorial  bearings  of  the  Delia  Scala  family.  These  uphold 
the  sarcophagus,  upon  which  is  stretched  a  full-length,  re- 
cumbent figure  of  Can  Grande,  with  sword  girt  to  his  side. 
Above  this  rises  a  pyramid,  upon  which  is  his  sculptured 
representation  on  horseback,  and  in  full  armor. 

The  Tomb  of  Martin  II.  is  also  quite  an  elaborate  piece 
of  work,  the  large  block  of  marble  which  supports  his  funeral 
urn  being  upheld  by  four  columns,  each  with  an  architrave  of 
nine  feet.  Four  other  columns  uphold  a  canopy  above  this, 
which  cover  the  urn  ;  and  above,  he  is  sculptured  as  large 
as  life,  on  liorseback. 

That  which  appeared  to  me  as  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
these  monuments  —  and  there  were,  I  think,  six  or  seven  of 
them  in  all  —  was  that  of  Can  Signorio,  who,  notwithstanding 


312  A  mtjedeker's  mausoleum. 

he  was  the  murderer  of  his  two  brothers  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, is  Iionorcd  with  a  most  sumptuous  mausoleum.  Not- 
withstanding- the  low  state  of  morals  in  Italy  at  that  time, 
this,  in  a  measure,  may  be  accounted  for  when  we  find  that 
he  had  it  designed  himself  previous  to  his  death,  and  deter- 
mined that,  in  sumptuousness  of  design  and  execution,  it 
should  surpass  that  of  any  of  his  predecessors.  Six  elegant 
columns  support  the  first  or  lower  section,  and  it  is  com- 
posed of  four  different  sections,  one  above  the  other. 
Among  the  different  sculptured  figures  supporting  some  of 
these  different  divisions,  I  noticed  those  of  Faith  and  Char- 
ity, and  other  allegorical  representations  of  virtues  ;  also, 
six  knightly  figures,  upon  as  many  pilasters  about  the  monu- 
ment. The  recumbent  figure  is  on  one  of  the  divisions  of 
the  structure  ;  and  the  whole  is  surmounted  by  a  handsomely 
sculptured  life-size  equestrian  figure. 

The  inclosure  here  is  the  old  cemetery  of  the  church,  and 
was  the  family  burial-place.  The  iron  fencing,  or  rail-work 
surrounding  the  tombs,  is  pointed  out  to  visitoi's  as  being 
extremely  rich  ;  and  it  is,  as  a  specimen  of  iron  skilfully 
wrought  by  handwork,  graceful  and  flexible,  the  design  be- 
ing the  ladder  (scala)  of  the  arms  of  the  family,  intermin- 
gled with  quatrefoils  and  delicate  tracery. 

From  these  tombs  we  whirled  away  through  quaint  old 
streets,  and  emerged  into  the  Piazza  dei  Erbe,  a  vegetable 
market  place,  noisy  with  the  clatter  of  market-women,  and 
surrounded  by  several  quaint  old  Gothic  buildings,  and  having 
at  one  end  a  tower  erected  by  the  same  Can  Signorio  whose 
tomb  we  had  just  left,  and  in  which  he  placed  the  first 
clock  put  up  in  Verona.  Many  of  the  other  curious  old 
buildings  doubtless  had  interesting  stories  connected  with 
them,  if  we  could  have  found  them  out.  One  was  a  mer- 
chants' Exchange,  built  in  1301.  There  stood  also  in  this 
square  the  pillar  which  once  supported  tlje  Winged  Lion  of- 
St.  Mark  when  Verona  was  subject  to  Venice,  but  which 
was  removed  from  its  lofty  pedestal  in  1V99. 


SCENIC    STREETS.  313 

Our  drives  about  the  city  took  us  beneath  some  of  the  old 
Roman  arches,  one  being-  called  the  Porta  dei  Borsari,  which 
extends  directly  across  one  of  the  principal  streets,  —  an 
ancient  double  gateway,  which,  from  inscriptions  upon  it, 
appears  to  have  been  built  in  the  reign  of  the  Roman  Em- 
peror GalLienus,  about  the  year  265.  For  more  than  six  cen- 
turies has  this  handsome  marble  barrier  —  for  it  is  singularly 
rich  in  ornament  —  stood  here  across  the  public  highway. 
Each  of  its  gateways  has  Corinthian  pilasters  upholding  a 
.light  pediment,  and  above  are  two  stories,  with  six  small, 
arched  windows  in  each.  The  various  flutings,  columns, 
and  curious  ornamentations  of  the  structure,  Avhich  are  nu- 
merous, must  afford  an  interesting  study  to  those  archi- 
tecturally inclined. 

Verona  is  a  Gothic  old  city  as  regards  architecture,  and 
full  of  curious  and  interesting'  streets,  squares,  and  churches. 
Strolling'  along'  during  the  afternoon,  I  came  to  a  street 
named  after  the  great  Italian  poet  Dante,  and  it  carried  me 
into  a  broad,  rather  quiet  square,  or  Avhat  would  have  been 
quiet,  had  it  not  been  for  the  groups  of  children,  who 
seemed  to  resort  there  for  an  evening's  romp.  One  pom- 
pous, uniformed  official,  Avith  a  large,  ornamented  cane, 
stood  watching'  the  proceedings  ;  and  he,  I  found,  was  a 
policeman. 

.  The  square  was  surrounded  b}^  lofty  old  buildings,  formerly 
the  dwellings  of  the  lords  of  Verona  ;  and  our  theatrical 
scene-painters  ought  to  get  sketches  of  it  as  a  good  scene 
to  transfer  to  canvas.  In  fact,  Verona  is  rich  in  picturesque, 
theatrical  scenery-looking  streets,  with  quaint  architecture 
and  coloring,  light,  and  shade  ;  and  even  the  dinginess  that 
reminds  one  of  the  worn  side-scenes  and  serviceable  flats 
that  answer  equally  well  for  a  "  Street  in  Lyons"  in  the 
drama  of  "  The  Lady  of  Lyons,"  a  "  Square  in  Mantua  "  in 
"  The  AVife,"  a  street-scene  in  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  or 
similar  scenes  from  a  dozen  other  plays  one  might  mention. 
In  the   middle   of  this   square   stands   a  beautiful   colossal 


314  EELIC  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES. 

statue  of  Dante,  lie  is  represented  as  looking  towards  the 
house  in  which  he  was  received,  during  his  exile,  by  Can 
Grande. 

One  of  the  most  conspicuous  buildings  upon  this  square, 
which  is  called  the  Piazza  dei  Signori,  is  the  Palazzo  del  Con- 
siglio,  whose  columns,  pilasters,  and  the  statues. that  sur- 
mount it,  show  it  to  be  a  pile  of  no  ordinary  merit.  The 
statues  are  said  to  be  those  of  celebrated  men  born  in 
Verona  ;  and  there  is  a  saying  that  every  man  of  any  note 
in  ancient  time,  who  is  recorded  as  ever  having  visited 
Verona,  is  now  claimed  by  the  Veronese  to  have  been  born 
there.  This  palace  was  erected  in  the  fifteenth  centur}',  and 
was  designed  by  Father  Giocondo,  who,  besides  being  an 
excellent  scholar  and  contributing  much  to  literature,  was 
one  of  the  best  architects  of  his  times.  The  Campanile,  in 
this  square,  is  a  splendid  specimen  of  brick  masonry,  soar- 
ing three  hundred  feet  into  the  air. 

We  did  not  go  over  the  Castle  Vecchio,  which  stood 
near  the  swiftly  flowing  river  Adige,  but  contented  our- 
selves looking  at  the  exterior  of  this  picturesque  and  battle- 
mented  old  relic  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  but  the  turreted  and 
battlemented  bridge  —  this  must  not  be  left  out  of  our 
experience.  This,  too,  with  its  ancient  brick  arches,  is  an 
exceedingly  picturesque  object,  and  one  of  its  arches  makes 
a  span  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-one  feet.  It  was  built  ii\ 
1355,  and  from  it  we  enjoyed  some  fine  views  up  and  down 
the  swiftly  flowing  stream. 

Travellers  who  are  interested  in  visiting  churches  will 
find  enough  to  claim  their  attention  in  Verona,  and  to  use 
up  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  time,  for  there  are  said  to 
be  over  fort}'  difiTcrent  churches  here.  I  can  confess  to  but 
three,  and  these  were  inspected  almost  as  hastily  as  the 
director  of  an  American  charitable  institution  goes  through 
it  on  the  annual  visit  of  tlie  Board. 

The  Cathedral,  they  pretend  to  saj,  was  built  by  Charle- 
magne, but  the  guide-books  and  other  authorities  place  it 


CATHEDRAL    AT    YEROXA.  315 

as  an  edifice  of  the  twelfth  century.  As  far  as  quaint  and 
curious  antiquity  of  some  parts  of  it  is  concerned,  one  might 
readily  believe  it  to  have  been  built  in  the  time  of  Charle- 
magne, but  portions  are  known  to  be,  and  can  be  readily 
recognized  as  additions  and  productions  of  a  later  date. 

One  of  the  chief  exterior  attractions  which  everybody 
goes  to  see  is  the  ornamented  porch  at  one  of  the  entrances, 
where,  besides  the  arches  and  columns  supported  by  griffins, 
there  stand,  on  either  side  of  the  door,  sculptured  repre- 
sentations of  those  noted  paladins,  Eoland  (or  Orlando,  that 
being  the  Italian  form  of  the  name)  and  Oliver.  In  his  right 
hand  Roland  holds  his  celebrated  sword  Durindada,  which, 
it  will  be  recollected,  the  fable  saj^s  he  won  from  a  Sara- 
cen warrior,  and  that  it  once  belonged  to  Hector  of  Troy. 
The  sculptor  has  cut  the  name  of  the  sword  upon  it,  that 
its  character  may  be  fully  understood  by  the  visitor.  One 
of  the  noted  warrior's  legs  and  feet  is  in  armor,  and  the 
other  bare.  Oliver,  on  the  other  side  of  the  entrance,  is  also 
an  armed  figure  ;  and  he  bears  in  his  hand,  not  a  sword,  but  a 
club,  to  which  is  attached  a  round,  spiked  ball,  something- 
like  a  weapon  with  a  longer  handle  I  remember  to  have  seen 
at  the  Tower  of  London  Armory,  and  called  there,  I  think, 
the  "morning  star,"  and  calculated,  when  swung  by  a 
stalwart  arm,  to  make  the  owner  of  the  head  it  might  en- 
counter "  see  stars,"  if  it  did  not  let  daylight  in. 

They  point  out  to  you,  among  the  sculptures  over  the 
door,  that  of  a  hog  dressed  as  a  monk,  and  standing  upon 
his  hind  legs  Avith  his  fore  feet  planted  in  an  open  book,  as 
if  officiating  at  some  ceremony,  —  a  satire  in  stone  work  ; 
and  upon  a  porch  on  another  side  of  the  church  are  ranges 
of  columns,  upon  which  the  sculptor  has  seemed  to  revel  in 
carving  burlesque  and  satirical  work  in  his  art,  of  grotesque 
heads  of  imps  or  saints,  beautiful  tracery,  and  ornament  in- 
termingled as  if  working  with  freedom  to  show  what  could 
be  produced  from  his  chisel. 

I  will  not  tire  the  i-cader  with   a  description   of  the  inte- 


316  CHURCH    OF    ST.  ANASTASIA. 

rior,  where  is  tlie  beautiful  picture  of  the  Assumption,  by 
Titiau,  a  fine  one  of  the  Adoration  of  the  Three  King-s,  be- 
sides many  rich  and  curious  chapels  of  old  Verona  families, 
with  pedigrees  running  back  I  don't  know  how  many  hun-. 
dred  years.  Some  of  these  chapels  are  extremely  rich  and 
cleg-ant  in  their  decorations,  notably  so  that  of  the  Maifei 
family.  AVe  might,  if  we  had  a  permit,  we  were  told,  have 
gone  into  tlie  great  library,  which  is  entered  from  the  clois- 
ters of  this  church,  —  a  collection  rich  in  ancient  literature, 
containing  manuscripts  written  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  cen- 
turies. Many  of  the  manuscripts  in  this  collection  were 
discovered  to  be  palimpsests  of  great  value.  But  we  must 
confess  to  doing  Verona  hastily  ;  for  the  fierce  heat  of  an 
Italian  sun  was  making  itself  felt,  and  the  season  well  ad- 
vanced, and  we  were  anxious  to  move  towards  a  region  of 
cooler  atmosphere. 

The  river  Adige  sweeps  round  the  city  of  Verona,  divid- 
ing it  into  two  parts  ;  and  its  rapid  stream  keeps  in  motion 
water-mills,  which  are  built  on  rafts,  and  anchored  in  some 
manner  at  midsti'eam. 

The  Church  of  St.  Anastasia,  close  to  the  entrance  of  our 
hotel,  we  visited  one  afternoon,  delighted  to  get  into  its 
cool  interior  from  beneath  the  rays  of  the  sun.  This  old 
church,  Gothic  in  its  style  of  architecture,  was  built  by  the 
Dominicans  in  the  thirteenth  century.  It  is  about  three 
hundred  feet  long  and  eighty  wide,  and  has  a  floor  inlaid 
with  various-colored  marbles.  It  is  filled  with  side-chapels 
and  altars  ;  the  chapels,  as  usual,  of  noted  Italian  families, 
and  rich  in  sculpture,  paintings,  and  decorations.  There 
were  the  St.  Germigrano  Chapel,  with  a  fine  old  tomb  of 
Gothic  design  and  elegant  frescos  ;  tlie  Pellegrini  Chapel, 
%vith  a  curious  set  of  terra-cotta  figures,  representing  scenes 
in  the  life  of  Christ  ;  the  monuments  to  members  of  the 
family,  and  frescos  with  figures  which,  we  were  given  to 
understand,  were  portraits  of  some  illustrious  members  of 
the  family,  whose  dust  mouldered  in  the  vaults  below  ;  the 


IN    THE    TYROL.  317 

Chapel  of  the  Fregoso  and  Lazize,  with  beautiful  altars  and 
ancient  frescos.  There  were  several  monuments  to  Italian 
authors,  mathematicians,  and  scholars,  and  paintings  that 
bore  names  that  I  confess  I  had,  alas  !  never  heard  of  be- 
fore ;  some  of  the  latter,  rich  masses  of  coloring,  and  with 
those  grand  effects  of  grouping,  light,  and  shade,  that  the 
old  masters  excelled  in,  and  others  the  hard,  stiff  represen- 
tations of  saints  and  martyrs  that  the  tourist  becomes  wearied 
of  from  frequent  repetition. 

Our  railway  ride  from  Verona  to  Botzen  carried  us  first 
across  a  bridge  over  the  rushing  Adige,  and  then  past  a 
great  defile  wnth  huge  walls  rising  on  either  side,  not  far 
from  the  field  of  Rivoli,  one  of  Bonaparte's  earliest  victo- 
ries. We  gradually  leave  what  is  known  as  the  Valley  of 
the  Adige,  and  finally  cross  the  frontier,  and  are  in  the 
Tyrol ;  and,  having  been  whirled  through  little  towns  whose 
names  I  cannot  remember,  and  past  an  old  castle  or  two  that 
I  have  forgotten,  at  last  pull  up  for  a  brief  halt  at  the  sta- 
tion in  Trent,  a  fine  old  place  with  walls  and  towers,  and  one 
of  the  principal  cities  of  the  Italian  Tyi'ol,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Adige. 

We  leave  Trent  behind,  and  after  a  short  ride  over  another 
bridge,  we  have  crossed  and  recrossed  the  Adige  two  or 
three  times  in  our  journey,  and  had  it  in  sight,  as  the  road 
seems  to  run  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  the  whole  distance  to 
Botzen.  We  ride  through  the  porphyry  region  of  hills,  from 
which  that  stone  is  taken,  cross  a  final  bridge  which  we  are 
told  is  over  the  Eisach  River  that  runs  into  the  Adige, 
and  halt  for  a  night's  rest  at  Botzen,  before  going  on  to  old 
Innspruck  for  a  rest  and  cool-oflf. 

Botzen  appeared  to  be  a  picturesque  town,  with  quaint 
streets,  having  arcades  under  the  buildings,  a  church  with  a 
curious  old  red  spire,  and  here  and  there  the  streets  cut  by 
canals  of  running  water  ;  but  the  water  from  above  came 
down  in  a  brisk  shower  on  our  arrival,  and  we  wei'e  glad  to 
seek  shelter   at  once,  passing  on  our  way  a  procession  of 


filS  A    XIGIIT    IN    BOTZEN". 

littlo  l)oys  rctunun^-  from  school,  headed  by  a  priest,  who 
Averc  taking  their  drenching-  witli  much  apparent  enjoy- 
ment. 

A  g-ood  dinner  was  had  at  the  Hotel  Kaii^erkrone  (Em- 
peror's Crown),  wliicli  the  guide-books  set  down  as  "com- 
fortable but  dear  ;  "  and  another  hint  which  they  give,  which 
those  who  use  light  wines  will  be  grateful  for,  is  to  try  the  Ter- 
laner  wine,  which  is  a  fluid  of  rare  excellence,  and  can  only 
be  had  in  this  immediate  vicinity.  It  is  pure  and  light  in 
its  character,  of  delicate  flavor,  which  for  some  reason  it  is 
said  to  lose  on  being  transported  to  any  distance. 

I  had  promised  myself  a  good  night's  rest  at  Botzen,  at  a 
good  hotel,  and  in  a  town,  as  it  looked  to  be,  the  very  spot 
to  enjoy  dreamy  musings  and  sound  slumbers. 

A  picturesque  church-steeple  was  pointed  out  to  me  from 
my  chamber-wi?idow  by  the  ofiicious  valel  de  place.  He  had 
called  to  proffer  services,  and  Avas  sorry  I  was  not  going  to 
stay  the  next  day,  and  go  into  it  and  see  some  old  carved 
font  or  pulpit,  or  go  to  the  old  castle  built  by  the  Archduke 
Sigismund  in  1473.  But  I  remembered  that  old  steeple,  for 
at  four  o'clock  next  morning  began  its  jangle  of  bells,  and 
again  and  again  their  brazen  clangor  was  repeated  every 
half  hour,  rendering  slumber  impossible,  and,  as  I  thrcAv 
open  my  window-blinds  to  breathe  the  fresh  morning  air  at 
half  past  six,  just  after  the  peal  at  that  time  had  ceased,  I 
saw  the  bell-ringer  leaning  out  of  a  window  from  the  bell- 
tower  of  the  steeple  getting  cooled  off"  after  his  exertions. 
The  only  revenge  I  could  take  upon  this  tintinnabulator  was 
to  shake  my  fist  at  him,  which  act  seems  to  have  encouraged 
him  to  renewed  exertions,  judging  from  the  rattling  peal  he 
rung  out  half  an  hour  later. 

From  Botzen  to  Innspruck  by  rail  by  the  Brenner  Pass 
carried  us  through  some  romantic  scenery,  but  really  the  way 
to  enjoy  the  scenery  of  Swiss  or  Tyrolean  mountain-passes 
is  to  travel  by  private  post-carriages.  The  Brenner  Pass  is 
one  of  the  least  interesting,  however,  of  the  Alpine  passes, 


TYROLEAN    SCEXEET.  319 

and  the  road  being  lowest  down  is  open  at  all  seasons  of  the 
year  ;  so  we  comforted  ourselves  with  this  assurance  and  the 
knowledg'e  that  numerous  other  experiences  over  mountain- 
passes  by  other  methods  should  be  an  excuse  for  adopting 
that  annihilator  of  time  and  romance  in  travel,  the  railway 
train. 

We  left  Botzen  behind,  whirled  through  a  great  tunnel 
twelve  hundred  feet  long,  cut  through  porphyry  rock,  and 
passed  by  views  of  a  beautiful  country  with  a  background 
of  precipitous  crags  and  mountains.  The  railway  follows 
along,  for  some  distance,  the  river  Eisach,  in  a  narrow  ravine, 
with  high  porphyry  cliffs  on  either  side.  Then  we  pass  the 
Castle  of  Trostburg,  a  pictui'esque  little  structure  perched 
on  an  elevation  high  above  the  road,  and  various  other  ruins 
or  fragments  here  and  there  amid  the  rocky  fastnesses,  but 
few  of  wliich  the  tourist  will  remember  unless  he  make 
industrious  use  of  pencil  and  note-book.  I  have  in  mind  the 
richest  monastery  in  Tyrol,  said  to  be  in  a  little  village  that 
looked  hardly  big  enough  to  support  the  church  which  stood 
guard  over  it  like  a  giant  with  a  flock  of  lambs  at  his  feet. 
Then  we  ran  over  a  flat  expanse  of  country,  said  to  be  the 
scene  of  one  of  llofer's  victories,  and  see  a  castle  called 
Reifenstein,  that  some  old  fellow  lived  in  who  was  a  wonder- 
ful huntsman  or  sportsman  ;  —  fill  out  any  Tyrolean  legend 
of  a  marvellous  rifle-shot,  and  revelry  in  the  castle  hall,  and 
you  will  probably  have  the  story.  Not  more  than  five  or  six 
miles  further  on,  and  a  good-natured  German  compagnon  de 
voyage,  who  speaks  English,  points  out  an  old  stronghold 
known  as  Raubenstein,  or  Robber's  Nest.  In  fact,  that  was 
really  the  character  of  half  these  old  castles  in  the  feudal 
ages,  whose  owners  lived  by  levying  contributions  on  neigh- 
boring provinces  or  passing  travellers. 

We  made  a  brief  halt  at  Brenner,  a  station  which  is  said 
to  be  the  highest  point  reached  by  the  railroad,  being  about 
forty-eight  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Here 
they  point  out  two  little  streams,  one  of  which  is  a  noisy 


820  THE    ALPS    AGAIN". 

and  bustling  little  waterfall  or  cascade,  and  is  said  to  be 
the  beginning'  of  the  river  Eisach,  whose  rapid  flood  we 
crossed  once  or  twice  at  the  commencement  of  our  journey  ; 
and  the  other  a  small  stream  that  begins  the  river  Sill.  The 
Eisach  flows  southerly,  and  pours  its  tribute-  into  the  Adri- 
atic ;  and  the  Sill  north,  into  the  Black  Sea.  As  we  approach 
Innspruck  the  scenery  becomes  more  romantic  and  beautiful ; 
the  great  mountains  soar  into  the  air.  their  sides  streaked 
with  snow,  or  glittering  with  silver  rivulets  that  pour  down 
from  far  above  ;  the  train  thunders  through  great  ravines, 
with  rocky  walls  on  either  side,  or  crosses  from  one  to  the 
other  on  the  high  stone  bridges  that  span  them,  and  beneath 
which  the  river  Sill  rattles  in  sparkling  foam  ;  then  we 
emerge  in  sight  of  towering  mountains,  lifting  their  great 
frontlets  up,  up  to  the  very  sky  above.  The  Alps  !  The 
Alps  !     And,  as  the  tourist 

"  Hails  in  each  hill  a  friend's  familiar  face, 

And  clasps  the  mountain  in  his  mind's  embrace," 

he  hardly  thinks  to  bestow  a  glance,  just  before  he  reaches 
the  Innspruck  station,  at  a  distant  hill  to  which  his  attention 
may  be  called  as  indicating  the  point  whore  Andreas  Hofer, 
the  Tyrolean  patriot,  with  his  army  of  peasantry,  defeated  the 
soldiers  of  France  and  Bavaria.  But  of  him  anon  ;  for  we 
left  Botzen  at  10  a.  m.,  and  now  the  dial  points  5  p.  m.  as 
we  roll  into  the  station  at  Innspruck.  So,  though  it  may  be 
quite  suggestive  that  we  have  been  through  the  pass  trav- 
ersed by  the  young  Roman  general  Drusus  with  his  legions, 
twelve  years  before  the  Christian  era,  who,  though  only  in 
his  twenty-third  year,  defeated  the  tribes  of  Brenni  and 
German! ,  and  completely  subjugated  the  Tyrol,  was  wel- 
comed back  in  triumph  to  Rome,  and  that  his  was  the  ruined 
triumphal  arch  tliat  we  have  stood  beneath  and  which  St. 
Paul  must  have  passed  when  he  entered  the  imperial  city, 
—  though  these  suggestions  may  arise,  there  arises  another 
that  the  tourist  too  olten  finds  will  not  be  put  aside,  and 
that  is  one  of  hunger  and  the  dinner-hour. 


INXSPRUCK.  321 

Wo  drive  through  the  clean,  broad,  well-kept  streets  of 
Innspruck,  emerge  into  a  broader  and  wider  one  which  has  a 
monument  in  the  middle,  a  church  at  one  end,  and  a  triumphal 
arch  at  the  other,  and  the  two  principal  hotels  (the  Golden 
Sun  and  Ilotel  Austria)  on  either  side.  We  choose  the 
latter,  and  find  ourselves  in  an  excellently  managed  house, 
with  spacious  rooms  kept  faultlessly  clean,  a  table  d'hote 
excellent,  and  attendance  that  is  prompt  and  efficient. 

Our  rooms  look  out  upon  the  broad  street  known  as  the 
Neustadt,  according  to  the  guide-book.  In  the  centre  of  the 
street  is  a  monument  that  none  of  the  guide-books  mention  ; 
it  is  formed  of  a  white  Corinthian  pillar  resting  upon  a  red 
pedestal  some  twelve  feet  in  height,  which  in  turn  rests  upon 
a  base  consisting  of  three  broad  steps.  In  the  pedestal  on 
sunken  panels  are  bas-reliefs  of  religious  and  allegorical  sub- 
jects, and  upon  it,  at  the  base  of  the  Corinthian  pillar,  stand 
life-size  figures  of  St.  Vigilius  and  St.  Cassian  (two  apostles 
of  the  Tyrol),  and  St.  Anne  and  St.  George.  The  top  of  the 
pillar  is  surmounted  by  an  effigy  in  honor  of  the  Immacu- 
late Conception.  On  the  steps  at  the  base  of  this  monument, 
at  noon,  would  four  or  five  little  apprentice  boys,  workers 
somewhere  in  the  neighborhood,  rendezvous  ;  and  here  their 
brothers  and  sisters,  mites  of  four  or  five  years  of  age,  in 
coarse  garments  and  wooden  shoes,  bring  them  their  dinners, 
—  a  sort  of  porridge  in  an  earthen  pot,  —  which  were  eaten 
with  gusto  with  an  iron  spoon  by  these  artisans  of  twelve 
years  old  during  their  half  hour's  nooning.  This  monu- 
ment, which  is  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  features  of  the 
town,  is  built  of  the  marbles  of  the  country,  and  was  erected 
in  memory  of  a  victory  of  the  Tyrolese  over  the  Bavarians 
and  French  in  1703,  when  a  large  portion  of  the  Tyrol  had 
been  overrun,  Innspruck  taken,  and  when  Maximilian  of  Ba- 
varia was  so  confident  of  its  entire  subjugation,  that  he  had 
ordered  the  Te  Deum  to  be  sung  in  the  churches.  But  the 
Tyroleans,  recovering  from  their  first  surprise,  roused  the 
whole  country  by  means  of  alarm-fires  and  messengers,  and  the 
21 


322  AN    AMPIIITIIEATEE    OF    ALPS. 

enemy  were  cauglit  in  one  of  the  mountain-passes,  and  com- 
pletely destroyed. 

This  famous  success  is  celebrated  on  the  first  day  of  July 
by  a  solemn  procession  round  the  square,  which  we  were 
fortunate  enough  to  see.  The  religious  element  predom- 
inated largely  in  the  display.  The  procession  issuing  from 
one  of  the  churches  consisted  of  a  band  of  music;  monks 
bearing  crosiers  and  gilded  crosses  ;  acolytes  swinging  cen- 
sers of  burning  incense  ;  barefooted  friars  who  sang  Latin 
chants  ;  four  uniformed  officials  supporting  a  canopy  beneath 
which  walked  a  mitred  bishop  whose  magnificently  em- 
broidered vestments  were  upheld  by  pages  who  walked  be- 
hind; young  girls  and  boys,  and  men  with  uncovered  heads; 
soldiers,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  pomp  and  parade  the 
Church  of  Rome  knows  so  well  how  to  effectually  display. 
They  made  the  entire  detour  of  the  square,  and  when  he 
who  bore  the  host  passed,  with  the  monks  chanting  behind 
hiin,  the  crowd  in  the  street  uncovered  their  heads  and  fell 
upon  their  knees  in  silent  adoration. 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  this  Neustadt,  the  lofty  moun- 
tains that  tower  all  round  above  us,  six  to  eight  thousand 
feet  high,  seem  close  at  hand,  so  close  that  one  might  fire 
a  rifie-shot  down  into  the  square  ;  but,  though  they  appear 
thus  to  actually  overhang  the  town,  they  are  some  miles 
distant.  The  town  is  really  in  the  middle  of  a  valley  upon 
the  banks  of  the  river  Inn,  which  joins  its  swiftly  rushing 
current  near  here  with  that  of  the  Sill.  It  is  surrounded  by 
natural  beauties  and  romantic  scenery,  and  is  eighteen  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea-level. 

The  great  mountains  that  form  the  walls  of  the  valley  in 
which  the  town  is  situated  are  a  perpetual  pleasure  to  the 
traveller  who  enjoys  mountain  views,  and  the  varied  pictures 
they  present  in  the  spring  season,  of  their  great  patches  of 
snow  near  the  top,  ribbons  of  water  further  down,  and  luxu- 
rious green  succeeding  beneath  in  the  pleasant  sunshine.  A 
cooler  atmosphere  is  experienced  some   morning,  perhaps, 


THE    GOLDEN    ROOF.  323 

and,  casting  the  gaze  upwards,  we  discover  that  a  fresh 
white  mantle  has  been  spread  during  the  night,  and  the  ad- 
vancing breath  of  summer  is  tempered  by  the  cool  blast  of 
the  suow-fiold  till  it  gradually  yields  to  the  sun's  rays,  be- 
neath which  the  little  chalets,  mountain  paths,  and  verdure, 
and  sparkling  streams,  come  out  in  the  clear  atmosphere  like 
a  picture  mellowed  by  the  distance. 

At  one  end  of  the  street  stands  what  is  known  as  the 
Golden  Roof,  one  of  the  sights  of  Innspruck.  This  is  now 
an  old  post-house,  or  place  for  the  starting  of  post-wagons  ; 
that  is,  the  lower  part  of  it,  which  is  an  open  archway,  and 
is  a  fragment  or  all  that  remains  of  a  once  princely  palace. 
Above  is  a  balustrade,  with  six  coats  of  arms,  or  heraldic 
shields,  of  the  provinces  under  Maximilian's  government. 
Above  this,  in  front  of  the  second  story,  another  balus- 
trade, upon  the  six  sections  of  which  are  carved  figures  in 
various  fantastic  attitudes ;  and  above  this,  like  a  large- 
sized  Italian  awning,  projects  the  "golden  roof,"  an  awning 
of  gilt  copper,  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  wide. 

The  story  runs  that,  in  1425,  Frederick,  Count  of  Tyrol, 
who  dwelt  here,  annoyed  by  the  sobriquet  of  "empty  purse," 
built  this  "golden  roof"  at  an  expense  of  thirty  thou- 
sand ducats,  to  show  that  his  purse  was  not  empty.  The 
guide-book  story,  we  maj^  say,  however,  is  not  the  true  one  ; 
for  Frederick  was  no  spendthrift,  but  expended  his  means 
liberally  for  the  people  ;  and,  to  show  the  envious  nobles  who 
applied  the  nickname  to  him  that,  despite  his  self-abnega- 
tion and  charity,  he  had  means,  he  built  his  ornamental 
roof,  this  fragment  of  which  is  preserved  in  his  memory. 

Around  in  this  vicinity  are  some  of  the  older  buildings 
of  the  city,  projecting  over  and  forming  covered  arcades 
like  those  noted  in  Berne,  Botzen,  and  Verona. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  Neustadt,  which  is  a  broad, 
handsome,  and  well-paved  street,  stands  the  triumphal  arch 
of  Maria  Theresa,  who  arranged  in  1  T65  that  the  marriage 
of  her  son   (afterwards   Leopold   II.)   with  Maria   Louisa, 


324  AN   HISTORIC   REAUTY. 

daughter  of  Charles  III.  of  Spain,  should  take  place  at 
lunspruck.  The  inhabitants,  appreciating  this  honor  to 
their  city,  made  numerous  public  improvements  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  event,  decorated  the  streets  and  public  build- 
ings, and  erected  this  arch  at  the  point  where  the  imperial 
party  would  enter  the  city,  wliich  tliey  did  on  the  15th  of 
July,  attracting  a  large  and  brilliant  assemblage.  The 
royal  affianced  ones  were  married  August  5,  and  Inuspr.;ck 
had  a  month  of  gayety  and  festivity. 

The  arch  is  rather  a  clumsy-looking  structure,  consisting 
of  one  lofty  central  arch,  through  which  passes  the  carriage- 
way, and  two  lesser  on  each  side  for  foot  travel.  Above 
the  entablature,  which  is  supported  by  two  pillars  and  four 
pilasters,  are  two  allegorical  ligures  supporting  the  medal- 
lion of  Francis  I.,  and  over  the  lesser  archways  medallions 
of  other  royal  heads. 

Passing  bj^  a  shop-window  one  day,  my  attention  was 
attracted  by  a  small,  handsomely  finished  oil-painting,  that 
appeared  to  be  a  copy  of  the  portrait  of  a  beautiful  woman. 
It  was  so  pretty  that  I  halted  again  on  my  return  to  gaze 
once  more  upon  it,  and  finally  became  so  much  interested 
as  to  enter  the  shop  and  inquire  who  Avas  the  owner  of 
those  sweet  features,  when  I  found  I  had  stumbled  upon 
another  of  the  celebrities  of  Innspruck,  and  was  made 
acquainted  with  the  main  points  in  the  romantic  history  of 
Philippina  Welser,  the  historic  beauty  of  the  old  city.  The 
beautiful  little  copy  of  her  picture  is  made  from  the  original 
portrait,  once  kept  at  the  Ambras  Castle,  which  we  straight- 
way made  haste  to  visit. 

Philippina's  father  was  a  wealthy  old  burgher,  but  his 
daughter,  though  beautiful,  was  not  eligible  as  a  royal 
bride  ;  but  it  chanced,  when  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  came 
into  Augsburg,  in  1547,  that  the  young  and  handsome  Prince 
Ferdinand  II.  rode  by  his  side,  and  as  the  burgher's  beauti- 
ful daughter  leaned  forward  from  her  window  to  throw  a 
wreath  of  flowers  towards  the  emperor,  the  prince  caught 


EOYAL    FELICITY.  325 

sight  of  her,  and  she  of  him,  and  it  was  a  genuine  case  of 
love  at  first  sight.  But  the  course  of  true  love  never  did 
run  smooth  ;  for  the  j'Oung  lady  had  been  betrothed  by 
her  father  to  the  eldest  son  and  heir  of  another  rich  old 
burgher  in  Augsburg  named  Fugger,  who  was  anxious  for 
the  match,  and  old  Welser  having  given  his  word,  was 
sturdily  honest  and  would  not  break  it,  even  for  a  prince. 
The  only  thing  left  for  the  lovers  was  an  elopement,  which 
took  place.  It  is  said  by  some  authorities  that  the  young 
archduke's  marriage  gave  offence  to  his  father,  who  consid- 
ered it  degrading,  and  that  it  was  not  until  twelve  years 
after  that  the  beautiful  Philippina  succeeded  in  so  moving 
him  by  her  beauty  and  pleadings  that  he  consented  to 
acknowledge  her,  and  created  her  two  sons  margraves. 

This  story,  however,  is  denied  by  other  authorities,  and 
is  said  to  refer  to  the  succeeding  emperor,  Maximilian  II., 
who  acknowledged  the  legality  of  Ferdinand's  marriage  on 
condition  that  the  issue  of  it  should  not  claim  the  rank  of 
Archdukes  of  Austria.  The  offspring  of  this  happy  mar- 
riage was  two  sons,  of  whom  one  became  a  bishop  and  car- 
dinal, and  the  other  Margrave  of  Burgau;  and  his  fatlier  left 
the  latter  this  fine  old  castle,  Schh)ss  Anibras,  whore  he  and 
his  amiable  wife  Philippina  had  passed  thirty  years  of  un- 
alloj'ed  happiness  and  wedded  life,  —  a  rare  circumstance 
with  royal  couples,  especially  in  a  match  of  such  descrip- 
tion as  this,  so  likely  to  provoke  family  jealousy. 

The  old  castle  was  left  to  the  son  Andreas  on  condition 
that  he  would  preserve  the  armor,  books,  manuscripts, 
works  of  art  and  verfu.  On  tlie  death  of  the  son  the 
castle  became  the  pleasure-seat  of  the  ro^^al  family,  was 
afterwards  used  as  a  barrack,  but  in  1842  was  cleared  out, 
renovated,  and  repaired. 

It  is  but  a  short  ride  from  the  town,  the  last  portion  of 
the  way  being  an  ascent  of  the  eminence  upon  which  it 
stands.  Schloss  Ambras  has  anything  but  the  appearance 
of  a  castle,   lacking  its  round  towers,  turrets,    and  battle- 


326  AMBRAS    CASTLE. 

ments,  though  the  wall  towards  the  valley  has  something 
of  a  fort-like  appearance  ;  but  the  building  looks  more  like 
a  big  whitewashed  factory,  nunnery,  or  barracks,  than  a 
mediieval  castle  of  the  thirteenth  century.  The  surround- 
ings and  walks,  however,  are  very  pretty,  and  the  view 
from  it  grand,  beautiful,  and  extensive.  The  whole  valley 
of  the  river  Inn,  with  its  grand  background  of  lofty  moun- 
tains, is  taken  in  at  one  sweep  of  the  eye.  The  towns  of 
Innspruck  and  Ilall,  and  various  little  white  villages  here 
and  there  dotting  the  beautiful  landscape,  winding  roads, 
and  glittering  river,  —  all  form  a  charming  picture.  The 
castle  is  a  great  rambling  mansion,  with  but  little  to  interest 
the  visitor.  An  ornamented  cabinet  and  writing-desk,  said 
to  have  been  that  used  by  Philippina,  some  curious  old 
specimens  of  wood  carving,  a  few  specimens  of  arms  and 
armor,  and  some  old  paintings,  are  shown.  The  collection 
of  ancient  armor  that  was  formerly  preserved  here,  consist- 
ing of  suits  owned  and  worn  by  various  noble  personages, 
kings,  warriors,  and  knights,  and  authenticated  beyond  a 
doubt,  was,  to  preserve  it,  removed  to  Vienna,  where  it  is 
known  as  the  Ambras  Collection,  and  fills  three  large  halls, 
being  one  of  the  most  interesting  collections  of  memorials 
of  ancient  chivalry  and  historical  mementos  of  the  manners 
of  the  middle  ages  in  existence. 

The  chief  interest  in  the  old  Schloss  seems  to  bo  that  it 
was  the  residence  of  this  Pliilippina  Welser,  who,  besides 
being  a  beautiful  woman,  was  a  model  of  domestic  virtues, 
and  as  such  was  so  endeared  to  the  popular  mind,  that  to 
this  day  her  picture  adorns  many  a  peasant's  cottage,  and 
her  story  is  one  of  the  popular  traditions  of  the  Tyrol. 

Returning  home,  we  rode  over  a  bridge  spanning  the  Sill, 
which  is  a  quiet  little  river  in  comparison  with  the  Inn,  a 
roaring,  rushing  stream,  flowing  with  tremendous  force,  and 
fairly  making  the  strong  wooden  bridge,  built  only  for  foot 
passengers,  quiver,  as  we  stood  upon  it  one  evening,  en- 
joying the  beautiful  views  up  and  down  the  river,  and  look- 


ANDREAS    HOFER.  327 

ing  at  the  strollers  on  the  banks.  The  Hofgarlen,  which  is 
a  sort  of  small  Champs  Eh/sees,  and  begins  at  one  side  of 
the  royal  palace,  an  uninteresting'  building-,  runs  down  to 
the  banks  of  the  river  at  this  point,  near  the  wooden 
bridge.  Further  down  the  river  is  a  more  substantial  and 
modern  chain-bridge,  with  massive  stone  structures  for 
supports  at  each  end. 

Not  far  from  the  old  bridge  is  the  scene  of  one  of  the 
severest  actions  of  the  Tyrolean  peasantry,  under  tlie  com- 
mand of  Hofer,  in  their  war  for  independence  against  the 
Bavarians  and  French.  In  and  about  Innspruek  are  the 
scenes  of  Hofer's  memorable  struggles ;  and  carvings  in 
wood,  portraits,  pictures,  busts,  and  engravings  of  him  are 
plentiful  in  the  shops.  The  treaty  of  Pressburg  in  1805 
gave  Tyrol  to  Bavaria,  the  allied  troops  under  Marshal  Ney 
poured  in,  the  fortresses  on  the  Bavarian  frontier  were 
destroyed,  and  Innspruek  occupied.  Early  in  1806  Ney 
left,  and  the  town  was  delivered  over  to  the  Bavarian  gov- 
ernment. The  Bavarians  appear  not  to  have  had  the  least 
idea  of  the  characteristics  of  the  inhabitants,  for  they  made 
most  obnoxious  and  unpopular  laws,  conflicting  with  the 
people's  customs  and  religious  belief,  and  in  many  ways 
made  the  yoke  of  their  government  excessively  galling. 

At  last  Ilofer  and  Spechbacher,  in  April,  1809,  drove  out 
the  Bavai'ians  and  beat  back  invading  forces  of  superior 
numbers  several  times  with  great  bravery.  The  achieve- 
ments of  these  patriots  were  nullified  by  the  Peace  of 
Schonbrun,  concluded  October  25,  of  the  same  year ;  but 
the  people,  although  desired  bj^  their  sovereign,  the  emperor 
of  Austria,  to  cease  operations,  could  hardly  be  brought  to 
believe  that  he  really  desired  them  to  yield,  but  thought 
that  he  was  forced  to  send  them  instructions  by  Napoleon, 
and  so  warfare  was  kept  up  by  them  in  their  mountain  fast- 
nesses. At  last  the  French,  by  oflering  a  large  reward, 
succeeded  through  treachery  in  capturing  Hofer,  and  after 
a  brief  trial  he  was  condemned  to  be  shot,  and  the  sentence 


328  MUSEUM    AT  INNSPRUCK. 

was  executed  in  Mantua,  the  brave  Tyrolean  meeting  his 
fat3  with  the  most  undaunted  courage,  refusing  to  have  his 
eyes  bandaged,  and  himself  giving  orders  to  the  soldiers  to 
fire  upon  him  as  he  stood  before  their  levelled  muskets  on 
the  20th  of  February,  1810,  and  fell  at  the  age  of  forty-five 
years. 

The  Museum  is  planned  with  a  design  of  exhibiting  the 
productions,  manufactures;  mineral  and  vegetable  products 
of  the  Tyrol,  as  well  as  specimens  of  its  literature,  natural 
history,  and  fine  arts.  It  is  really  a  strictly  national  exhi- 
bition, and  as  such  is  interesting  to  tourists  who  will  spare 
the  time  to  visit  it. 

Upon  the  lower  floor  were  minerals,  marbles,  and  various 
ores  found  in  the  mountains,  and  wo  saw  among  the  latter 
some  fine  specimens  of  gold  and  quicksilver.  Splendid 
specimens  of  marble,  porphyry,  malachite,  and  curious  min- 
erals, were  also  displayed  here.  But  a  treat  to  the  bot- 
anist was  the  beautiful  herbarium,  which  contained  a  com- 
plete collection  of  the  rich  flora  of  the  country,  and  all  the 
varieties  of  the  graceful,  delicate,  and  beautiful  flowers  and 
blossoms  which  in  spring  and  summer  enchant  the  traveller 
with  their  beauty,  or  interest  him  in  their  curious  forms  and 
hues,  as  he  journeys  over  the  mountain  passes.  Among 
the  exhibits  of  products  and  manufactures  were  beautiful 
specimens  of  salt  from  the  salt  mines  of  Hall,  and  models 
of  machinery  used  at  the  mines,  also  silk  and  worsted  work, 
and  a  variety  of  the  wonderful  wood  carving  from  a  part  of 
the  Tyrol  called  Grodnerthal,  where  this  art  is  carried  to  a 
great  degree  of  perfection.  Some  of  the  figures  excel 
statuettes   in  detail   and   effectiveness  of  execution. 

The  reproductions  in  wood  carving  of  the  bronze  figures 
of  King  Arthur  and  Theodoric,  which  stand  in  the  Francis- 
can Church,  are  done  with  great  fidelity,  and  command  a 
good  price  in  the  sliops  from  strangers  as  curiosities.  I 
have  before  me,  as  1  write,  the  figure  of  King  Arthur,  cut 
from  some  ordinar}-^  wood  of  the  country  (said  to  be  apple- 


SPIDER   WEB   PICTURES.  329 

tree  wood).  Although  but  ten  inches  in  height,  it  is  in 
excellent  proportion,  a  knight  in  full  armor,  outer  armor, 
under-shirt  of  chain  mail,  with  the  links  perfectly  wrought, 
sword  and  sword-belt,  gauntlets,  helmet  with  movable  visor, 
and  collar  of  an  order  of  knighthood,  all  elaborately  carved. 

Another  curiosity  seen  only  here  in  Innspruck  are  paintings 
upon  spiders'  webs.  These  webs  are  nearly  the  size  one 
sees  spangled  with  raindrops  in  the  grass  on  a  cloudy 
morning,  where  they  look  vastly  prettier  :  by  some  process 
the  webs  are  made  to  receive  delicate  colors,  and  by  the 
combination  of  web  and  painting  to  present  effective  land- 
scapes and  even  portraits  of  Philippina  Welser,  Hofer,  and 
various  saints,  without  injuring  the  fragile  canvas.  The 
web  may  be  of  some  extraordinary  species  of  spider,  or, 
more  probably,  prepared  in  some  peculiar  manner,  for  the 
artist,  for  the  process  of  the  production  of  these  pictures  is 
said  to  be  a  secret  in  the  possession  of  one  family,  who  have 
held  it  for  several  generations.  Among  the  manufactured 
articles  were  specimens  of  cutlery,  iron-ware,  and  tools  — 
some  rather  curious  and  clumsy-looking  ones  —  that  come 
from  a  portion  of  the  country  where  the  inhabitants  are 
nearly  all  blacksmiths  and  tool-makers. 

In  the  library,  they  have,  among  other  literary  treasures, 
several  fine  illuminated  manuscripts  from  the  patient  fingers 
of  the  old  Carthusian  and  Dominican  Monks  of  three  or  four 
hundred  years  ago,  and  some  early  works  struck  off  from 
one  of  the  early  printing-presses,  which  was  brought 
from  Schwatz,  another  Tyrolean  town,  and  set  up  in  Inn- 
spruck in  1529.  They  also  have  here  a  letter  written  by 
Lord  Bathurst,  which  he  sent  with  thirt}'^  thousand  pounds 
from  the  British  government  to  Ilofer  and  his  patriotic 
countrj'men  to  assist  them  in  their  efforts  against  the 
French  ;  but  all  too  late,  as  it  did  not  reach  its  destination 
until  the  struggle  was  entirely  over. 

Among  the  more  modern  manuscripts  the  old  custodiau 
showed  us,   with  some   degree   of  pride,   an   extract  from 


330  THE    COURT    CHURCH. 

Longfellow's  poem  of  "Excelsior,"  with  tlie  poet's  auto- 
graph attached,  and  further  informed  us  that  he  had,  when 
the  poet  visited  the  Museum,  a  discussion  with  him  as  to 
the  proper  use  of  the  word,  lie,  the  custodian,  contending 
that  the  word  as  used  b}''  the  poet  was  an  adjective, 
whereas  it  should  have  been  used  as  an  adverb,  and  been 
"  Excelsius."  Mr.  Longfellow,  he  informed  us,  admitted  in 
some  respects  the  justice  of  his  criticism.  One  may  readily 
imagine  that,  when  a  poet's  works  have  so  wide  a  reputa- 
tion that  he  finds  extracts  from  them  repeated  by  heart 
among  the  Tyrolean  mountains,  or,  as  they  are,  inscribed 
in  Chinese  characters  upon  the  door-posts,  in  the  Celestial 
Empire,  while  his  lyre  is  still  in  tune,  he  may  feel  gratified 
enough  to  bow  to  criticism  and  critics  like  this  with 
unruffled  composure. 

The  relics  of  the  brave  Hofer,  which  all  visitors  look  upon 
with  interest,  are  a  letter  written  by  him  shortly  before  his 
death,  his  rifle,  his  braces  and  belt,  and  a  medal  that  he 
wore  around  his  neck  when  he  was  shot.  The  custodian 
was  eloquent  over  his  patriotic  countryman,  whom  all  ac- 
counts agree  in  recording  as  a  man  of  rigid  honesty,  truth- 
fulness, and  humanity,  and  his  brief  career  of  command  as 
being  unstained  by  a  single  dishonorable  act,  or  unworthy 
deed. 

The  Franciscan  Church,  or  Hofkirche  (hoafkeercha),  as 
they  call  it  here,  signifying  the  court  church,  a  building  not 
at  all  remarkable  for  architectural  beauty,  was  begun  in 
1543,  and  consecrated  in  1563,  and  is,  with  its  contents,  the 
chief  and  great  attraction  to  tourists.  Indeed,  the  great 
tomb  of  Maximilian  I.  in  this  church  is  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  and  elaborate  monuments  in  Europe,  and  the 
twenty-eight  colossal  bronze  statues  that  adorn  the  aisles 
are  curious  and  wonderful  specimens  of  art. 

But  we  will  first  turn  our  attention  to  the  Tomb  and 
Monument  of  Tlofor,  which  is  directly  at  the  visitor's  left  on 
entering  the  church.      It  consists  of  a  square  sarcophagus 


A   WONDERFUL   MONUMENT.  B31 

surmounted  by  his  full-length  marble  statue,  which  was  cut 
from  Tyrolese  white  marble  by  a  Tyrolean  sculptor.  He  is 
represented  in  Tyrolean  uniform,  has  the  broad  belt,  short 
breeches,  long  boots,  and  frock  ;  one  hand  grasps  the  end 
of  the  carbine  swung  at  his  back,  as  though  about  to  bring 
it  forward,  and  the  other  holds  the  staflT  of  an  unfurled  flag, 
while  his  Tyrolean  hat  is  thrown  down  upon  the  bank  at  liis 
side.  Upon  the  front  of  the  sarcophagus  is  a  bas-relief 
representing  the  Tyrolean  patriots  surrounded  by  their 
countrymen  swearing  fealty  to  their  flag.  The  pedestal  bears 
the  inscription  in  Latin,  signifying  "  Death  is  swallowed  up 
in  victory  ;  "  and  one  in  German,  which  translated  is,  — 

"  The  grateful  Fatherland  to  its  sons  fallen  in  the  struggle 
for  freedom," 

The  great  cenotaph  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian  I.  occupies 
the  principal  portion  of  the  nave  of  the  churcli.  It  is  a 
monument  thirteen  feet  long,  six  feet  in  height,  and  seven  in 
width,  composed  of  different-colored,  highly  polished  marbles, 
and  supported  on  three  red  marble  steps.  Upon  the  top  of 
the  monument  is  a  colossal  kneeling  statue  in  bronze  of  the 
emperor  in  full  costume,  and  quite  elaborate  as  a  work  of 
that  description  ;  but  the  great  wonder  of  the  monument 
is  its  sides  and  ends,  which  are  divided  into  twenty-four 
different  compartments  of  fine  white  Carrara  marble  tablets, 
upon  wliich  are  executed  as  many  different  scenes  in  the 
emperor's  life  in  bas-relief  of  wonderful  execution.  The 
amount  of  labor,  artistic  skill,  and  patience  that  must  have 
been  betowed  upon  these  pictures  in  marble  (for  they  can 
hardly  be  called  sculptures),  is  astonishing. 

They  represent  sieges,  processions,  treaties,  battles,  mar- 
riages, and  assemblages  ;  and  in  each  tablet,  although  it  is 
filled  with  figures,  all  the  details  of  costume,  grouping, 
architecture,  &c.,  in  the  scene  are  given  with  astonisliing 
distinctness,  and  approaching  in  minuteness  that  of  a  cameo 
cutting.  Being  faithful  representations  of  the  architecture, 
manners,  and  costumes  of  the  period,  they  are  of  high 
historic  value. 


332  PICTURES    IN    MARBLE. 

The  monument  itself  is  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing, 
through  which  you  can  look  at  these  wonderful  carvings, 
but  tlie  silver  key  unlocked  this  for  us,  and  we  enjoyed 
several  long  and  close  inspections  of  this  marble  lace  work, 
and  furthermore  the  advantage  of  seeing  it  just  after  it  had 
been  thoroughly  cleansed  —  a  long  and  laborious  work,  only 
performed  at  intervals  of  many  years.  The  tablets  were 
therefore  fresh  and  white  as  if  just  from  the  hands  of  the 
sculptor,  and,  though  each  is  but  about  twice  the  size  of  a 
sheet  of  letter-paper,  they  presented  as  graphic  a  story  in 
stone  as  could  well  be  rendered  by  sculptor's  chisel. 

Among  the  most  interesting  was  a  representation  of 
Maximilian  entering  the  city  of  Vienna  in  1490,  in  which  he 
is  represented  in  the  foreground,  surrounded  and  followed 
by  a  crowd  of  knights,  courtiers,  and  men-at-arms,  both  on 
foot  and  on  horseback.  I  counted  twenty-eight  figures  in 
the  foreground,  all  of  course  of  Lilliputian  size,  but  with 
helmets,  weapons,  armor,  and  even  features  faithfully  cut 
and  finished  in  detail,  many  of  the  heads  being  portraits. 
In  the  background  was  seen  the  city  with  its  fortifications, 
steeples,  and  conspicuous  buildings,  and  the  long  line  of 
victorious  troops  entering  it. 

Wlien  it  is  considered  that  there  are  faithfully  rendered 
upon  these  small  figures  such  details  as  the  ornaments  upon 
the  emperor's  helmet,  the  tassels  of  the  horses'  ornamented 
bridle-reins,  the  ribbons  at  the  courtiers'  knees,  chain-links 
in  the  armor,  spurs  at  the  heel,  and  even  hairs  of  the  head 
and  beard,  the  reader  may  imagine  with  what  minute  accu- 
racy they  are  given,  and  that  to  be  enjoyed  they  should  have 
long  and  careful  examination.  I  will  not  say  how  long  a 
time  I  spent  kneeling  upon  the  steps  of  the  emperor's  tomb, 
looking  at  these  wondrous  tablets  ;  but  suggest  to  those 
who  visit  it  to  do  as  I  did,  go  more  than  once,  and  at  hours 
when  but  few  visitors  are  likely  to  be  present,  satisfy  the 
custodian,  which  can  be  done  by  a  moderate  fee,  and  then 
inside  the  grating  you  may  look  them  over  at  your  leisure. 


EXQUISITE    ARTISTIC   WORK.  333 

I  have  never  seen  anything  in  bas-relief  that  equals  the 
superb  pictures  carved  on  this  splendid  mausoleum,  and 
description  is  utterly  inadequate  to  give  the  reader  a  proper 
idea  of  their  excellence  and  beauty.  I  ought  to  have  men- 
tioned that  the  artist  has  in  the  battle-scenes  represented 
the  arms  and  costumes  of  the  different  nations  correctly,  and 
in  his  representations  of  Maximilian,  who  figures  in  each 
tablet,  preserves  the  emperor's  likeness  throughout,  differing 
only  in  age.  For  instance,  in  the  scene  representing  the 
marriage  of  the  prince  when  but  eighteen  years  of  age,  in 
1417,  he  will  be  found  presented  youthful  as  he- was,  but 
may  be  recognized  in  some  of  the  other  scenes  as  the  same 
person  come  to  man's  estate.  Another  instance  of  the 
minuteness  of  detail  before  mentioned  in  these  carvings, 
may  be  seen  in  that  representing  the  prince's  marriage, 
where  the  pictures  are  represented  in  bas-relief  hanging  on 
the  walls  of  the  apartment  in  which  the  ceremony  was 
performed. 

These  sculptures  were  begun  in  1561  by  two  brothers, 
Arnold  and  Bernhard  Abel  of  Cologne,  who  both  died  two 
years  afterwards,  having  completed  but  three  tablets.  The 
work  was  then  taken  up  by  a  sculptor  named  Alexander 
Colin  of  Mechlin,  aided  by  a  great  number  of  assistant 
artists,  and  was  completed  in  15G7. 

Each  side  of  the  church,  up  and  down  its  aisle,  upon  their 
pedestals  between  the  red  marble  columns  of  the  church, 
stand  twentj^-eight  colossal  bronze  figures  of  emperors, 
kings,  princes,  empresses,  and  other  notable  historical 
characters  of  Europe,  three  centuries  ago,  admirably  mod- 
elled, faithfully  executed  with  all  the  details  of  armor  and 
dress  that  belonged  to  the  period  in  which  they  flourished. 
This  company  of  giants  of  the  past,  having  assembled  as  it 
were  to  do  homage  at  the  emperor's  tomb,  cannot  fail  to 
impress  the  visitor  with  a  certain  feeling  of  awe  as  in  the 
twilight  of  afternoon  he  sees  them  standing  motionless  and 
silent,  keeping  watch  and  ward  by  the  tomb  of  "  the  last 
of  the  knights,"  as  Maximilian  is  sometimes  called. 


334  GIANTS   IN   BRONZE. 

These  figures  ave  each  eight  feet  in  height,  and  valuable, 
many  of  them,  as  being  correct  representations  of  the 
costumes  of  the  sixteenth  century-.  The  coronation  robes 
with  embroidery,  figures  upon  the  vestments,  the  dress, 
accoutrements,  arms  and  armor,  drapery,  and  trimmings  of 
both  male  and  female  figures,  are  marvellously  well  executed, 
and  combine  to  render  them  some  of  the  most  remarkable 
works  of  their  age. 

Another  thing  that  was  gratifj'ing  to  me,  as  a  curious 
and  prying  American,  was  the  freedom  with  which  we  were 
permitted  to  examine  these  remarkable  figures.  Perhaps  it 
was  because  they  were  too  heavy  to  be  carried  off",  and  too 
hard  to  have  fragments  broken  from  them  by  vandal  hands, 
but  the  privilege  of  closely  examining  and  freely  handling 
them  was  permitted  without  restriction  ;  so  that  we  took 
hold  of  and  admired  the  figured  robe,  unbending  to  the 
touch,  but  richly  ornamented  as  from  the  loom,  of  Mary  of 
Burgundy,  the  emperor's  first  wife  ;  examined  the  curiously 
wrought  overcloak  and  under-robe,  in  rich  embroidery  of 
Frederick  I.,  Maximilian's  father,  who  reigned  from  1415  to 
1495,  or  the  clumsy  figure  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  an 
ancient  ancestor  of  the  emperor  (640),  a  thick-set  individual 
with  clenched  fist  and  arm  in  thick  fluted  armor,  as  if 
about  to  strike  a  body  blow  in  a  sparring  match,  and  who, 
not  content  with  shirt  of  mail  beneath,  wears  heavy  armor 
over  it  like  a  great  surtout,  and  is  crowned  with  a  helmet 
heavy  enough  to  weigh  down  a  giant. 

The  two  figures  thought  to  be  the  best,  and  which  are 
the  most  frequently  reproduced  in  wood-carvings  of  various 
sizes  by  the  Tyrolean  wood  carvers,  are  those  of  Theodoric, 
king  of  the  Ostrogoths  from  455  to  526,  and  King  Arthur 
of  England.  That  of  Theodoric  represents  him  in  good- 
fitting  undershirt  of  chain  mail,  with  flexible  sleeves  and 
gauntlets,  and  a  sliort  surcoat  of  mail  over  it ;  his  gorget 
and  hood,  of  chain-mail,  is  crowned  by  a  curious  helmet, 
looking  very  like  a  grocer's  tin  flour-scoop  with  the  handle 


A   KNIGHTLY    FIGURE.  835 

upwards.  He  is  leaning  with  his  right  hand  upon  a  pole- 
axe,  and  his  left  rests  upon  his  two-handled  sword,  hip-high, 
as  he  stands  looking  downward  as  in  deep  thought. 

To  my  mind,  by  far  the  finest  figure  in  the  whole  collection, 
and  one  which  excels  in  gracefulness  of  pose,  excellence  of 
proportion,  and  spiritedness  of  attitude,  is  that  of  King 
Arthur  of  England.  It  is  the  very  beau-ideal  of  the  brave 
knight  of  ancient  legend  and  romantic  ballad,  elegant  and 
graceful  in  proportion,  and  richly  clad  in  well-fitting  armor, 
that  sets  off  his  athletic  figure  to  advantage.  The  light 
undershirt  of  chain-mail,  lower  limbs  in  plate  armor,  a  close- 
fitting  surcoat  riclily  ornamented  with  the  dragon  of  St. 
George,  and  a  collar  of  the  order  about  the  neck  ;  head 
covered  with  a  graceful  helmet,  a  light  coronet  encircling 
its  crest,  and  beneath  the  movable  visor,  when  raised,  the 
determined  features  of  a  brave  man  looking  forth.  The 
attitude  of  the  figure  is  very  graceful  and  spirited,  the  right 
foot  firmly  planted,  the  left  leg  slightly  bent,  the  left  arm 
akimbo  as  the  left  hand  grasps  the  scabbard  of  the  sword 
that  hangs  at  his  hip,  the  right  hand  half  unclosed  appearing 
as  if  just  starting  in  action  to  draw  the  sword  to  combat 
with  a  defying  enemy.  The  attitude  of  the  figure  is  that 
of  a  knight  just  on  the  point  of  seeking  his  sword-hilt  in 
answer  to  a  challenge,  and  its  admirable  pose  is  in  marked 
contrast  with  the  stiiTness  of  most  of  the  others  that  surround 
it.  The  visor,  or  beaver,  of  the  helmet  is  movable,  and  may 
be  raised  by  the  visitor  exposing  the  bronze  features,  or  left 
down  with  its  crossed  bars  concealing  them. 

The  names  of  these  worthies  in  bronze  are  all  recorded 
in  the  guide-books,  so  I  will  not  enumerate  them  here,  save 
to  mention  that  among  them,  besides  those  mentioned,  are 
old  King  Clovis,  Godfrey  de  Bouillon  the  Crusader,  and 
Charles  the  Bold,  of  Burgundy.  There  are  twenty-three 
other  bronze  figures  of  small  size,  originally  intended  to 
adorn  the  tomb  of  Maximilian,  that  are  kept  in  an  apart- 
ment adjoining  the  church,  gained  by  a  short  staircase,  and 


336  THE    SILVER   CHAPEL. 

called  the  Silver  Chapel  from  the  fact  that  it  contains  a 
statue  of  the  Virgin,  and  an  elaborate  altar-piece  of  elegant 
bas-reliefs  in  solid  silver.  These  figures  are  those  of  indi- 
viduals connected  with  the  house  of  Hapsburg,  and  dis- 
tinguished for  the  sanctity  of  their  lives  or  deeds,  and 
probably  each  for  that  reason  having  the  title  of  saint  pre- 
fixed to  his  name. 

The  Silver  Chapel  was  built  by  Ferdinand  II.,  Archduke 
of  Austria  and  Count  of  Tyrol,  to  satisfy  the  devotion  of  his 
wife,  the  beautiful  Philippina  Welser,  before  mentioned  in 
these  sketches,  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Immaculate  Concep- 
tion. In  this  chapel  she  used  to  offer  up  her  devotions,  and 
after  her  death,  in  1580,  it  was  made  the  place  for  her  mau- 
soleum, which  is  an  altar-shaped  tomb,  with  her  recumbent 
effigy  upon  it  in  marble,  a  figure  of  great  beauty,  above 
which  is  seen  the  Angel  of  Death  extinguishing  his  torch. 
The  upright  slab  in  front  of  the  tomb  is  divided  into  three 
sections,  and  upon  each  side  are  allegorical  figures,  repre- 
senting works  of  charity  and  mercy,  and  in  the  background 
Innspruck  as  it  was  in  her  day.  The  middle  section  con- 
tains an  inscription  recording  the  gentle  lady's  piety  and 
good  deeds.  Ferdinand's  monument  is  in  the  form  of  an 
arch,  twelve  feet  high,  and  nine  feet  in  width.  It  is  of 
white  and  black  marble,  and  near  that  of  his  fair  wife.  Upon 
it  rests  his  marble  effigy  with  upraised  hands,  and  around 
the  arch  are  emblazoned  shields  bearing  the  arms  of  the  dif- 
ferent branches  of  his  house.  Upon  it  are  four  elegant  bas- 
reliefs  in  white  marble,  similar  in  character  to  those  on  the 
tomb  of  Maximilian.  Tliey  are  all  executed  by  the  same 
artist,  Colin  of  Mechlin,  and  represent  remarkable  events  in 
Ferdinand's  life. 

I  have  given  so  much  attention  to  the  Hofkirche  that  I 
shall  not  fatigue  the  reader  with  especial  descriptions  of  the 
others,  wliich  contain  but  little  of  interest,  comparatively 
speaking,  after  one  has  visited  this.  The  church  and  mon- 
astery of  the  Order  of  Servites,  at  the  end  of  the  Neustadt, 


A   GRATEFUL  PICTUEE.  337 

contains  some  good  pictures  by  native  artists,  and  fine  fres- 
cos in  tlie  roofing ;  and  there  is  another  church  known  as 
the  Dreiheiligkeitskirche,  —  think  of  that  for  a  word  of 
learned  length  and  thundering  sound,  which,  translated, 
signifies  "Holy  Trinity  Church,"  —  an  edifice  built  by  the 
burghers  of  Innspruck  for  the  Jesuits,  in  1611,  as  a  token 
of  gratitude  for  the  staying  of  the  ravages  of  a  terrible 
epidemic,  in  which  is  an  altar-piece  representing  the  three  — 
let  the  reader  take  breath  for  another  long  name  —  Pest- 
Schutzheiligen — "patron  saints  against  pestilence."  This 
church  is  of  the  best  architectual  design  of  any  in  Inn- 
spruck, and  from  the  balcony  around  the  lantern  of  its  cupola, 
which  is  two  hundred  and  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground,  the 
spectator  may  enjoy  a  fine  view  of  the  whole  valley  of  the 
river  Inn. 

Then  there  is  the  Pfarrkirche,  containing  much  beautiful 
marble  work  of  the  marbles  of  the  country,  with  which  it  is 
lavishly  decorated,  and  frescos  in  the  roof  representing 
deeds  in  the  life  of  St.  James,  who  appears  mounted  on 
horseback  ;  and  hei'e  is  told  a  new  version  of  t'he  familiar 
story  of  the  artist,  who,  as  he  was  engaged  on  his  lofty  plat- 
form in  the  cupola,  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  the  saint, 
walked  backwards  to  observe  the  effect  of  his  work,  and, 
as  he  reached  the  edge,  instead  of  a  friend  daubing  his 
picture  and  causing  him  to  rush  forward  from  the  brink  and 
the  danger  of  a  fall,  the  saint  in  the  picture  stretched  out 
his  arm,  and  with  his  strong  grasp  seized,  held,  and  saved 
the  artist  from  being  dashed  down  upon  the  pavement  far 
boluw  —  a  case  of  gratitude  on  the  part  of  an  artistic  pro- 
duction that  will  be  thought  remarkable,  to  say  the  least. 

Innspruck,  which  is  the  capital  of  the  Austrian  Tyrol, 
has  a  most  interesting  history,  and  has  been  the  scene  of 
many  notable  royal  receptions,  marriages,  fetes,  and  visits, 
and  also  some  severe  contests  in  and  about  its  immediate 
vicinity.  It  is  a  pleasant  and  agreeable  place  for  a  week  or 
two  of  rest  for  the  tourist,  especially  in  the  months  of  June 
22 


338  SEEKING   COMPANIONS. 

and  July,  the  hotel  accommodations  being  good,  the  town 
quiet  and  clean,  and  the  rides  in  the  vicinity  romantic  and 
pleasant. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

From  Innspruck  to  St.  Moritz,  in  the  upper  Engadine, 
they  manage  to  make  about  a  three  days' journey  by  posting, 
and  this  mode  of  travel  is  the  most  interesting  and  agreea- 
ble method  of  going  from  point  to  point  in  the  Tja'ol.  All 
the  romance  and  charm,  the  adventure,  and  most  of  the 
novelty,  are  lost  when  the  railroad  tunnel  is  used  instead  of 
the  mountain  zigzag,  as  I  found  on  my  second  passage  of 
th^  celebrated  Mount  Cenis,  where  a  whole  day's  charming 
sight-seeing,  of  invigorating  atmosphere,  and  glorious  moun- 
tain views  was  exchanged  for  an  hour's  dark  transit  in  a 
close  railway  carriage. 

However,  in  the  trip  we  were  now  about  to  take,  post- 
carriages  were  the  only  conveyances.  As  these  carriages 
can  easily  carry  four  persons,  and  as  there  were  but  two  of 
us  to  go,  I  waited,  and  sought  in  the  opposite  hotel,  "  The 
Golden  Sun,"  for  companions  to  share  the  caiTiage  and  the 
expense  of  the  trip  ;  but  there  were  none  there,  and,  at  our 
own,  two  Americans  and  two  English  people  went  off  in  an 
opposite  direction,  while  another  English  party,  gentleman 
and  wife,  attended  by  their  servant,  although  sitting  near  us 
at  dinner,  passing  us  daily  in  the  hotel,  and  at  j^laces  of 
interest  in  the  town  for  more  than  a  week  since  their  arrival, 
had,  with  true  British  reserve,  never  addressed  a  word  to 
us.  Never  been  introduced,  you  see.  Of  course,  one 
couldn't  have  the  audacity  to  address  them  proposing  trav- 
elling companionship  !     We  asked  the  landlords  to  inform 


POST    HORSES   FOE    ST.    MORITZ.  339 

US  of  any  traveller  or  travellers  desiring  to  make  the  trip, 
but  as  usual  they  heard  of  no  one. 

I  found  a  jolly  young  Tyrolese,  however,  whom  I  had 
seen  lounging  round  the  stables,  and  contrived  to  learn  from 
him  that  he  wanted  to  get  to  the  very  next  town  I  desired 
to  reach.  His  post-chaise  was  a  fine  one,  and  his  dapple 
grays  sound  and  strong,  his  price  some  eight  dollars  less 
than  mine  hosts  had  indicated  ;  so  I  waited  no  longer,  but 
closed  with  him,  and  ordered  the  landlord  to  fill  out  a  writ- 
ten contract  for  the  same  for  him  to  sign,  in  which  was  ex- 
pressed the  time  to  be  occupied,  the  stops  to  be  made  and 
where.  I  was  somewhat  startled  when  the  post-driver  came 
to  sign  his  name  —  Franz  Hell ;  but  his  name  was  far  from 
being  indicative  of  his  charactei*. 

The  British  guest  I  observed  at  breakfast,  on  the  morning 
of  our  departure,  making  the  most  ample  preparations  of  cold 
fowl,  sandwiches,  and  cold  meat  packed  in  a  tin  box,  and 
overheard  him  observe  that  they  must  "provide  against 
these  beastly  Tyrolean  inns  after  leaving  h'yar,"  —  a  warn- 
ing I  took  heed  of  myself;  and,  having  in  mind  former  ex- 
perience of  acid  wines,  sour  bread,  and  bad  water,  added 
some  sandwiches  and  two  or  three  bottles  of  claret  to  my 
own  provision  for  the  journey. 

Our  carriage  stood  opposite  the  hotel,  and  the  horses 
rattled  their  harness  trappings,  anxious  to  start,  as  we  de- 
scended the  staircase,  and  found  our  Englishman  telling  the 
landlord  that  it  was  an  hour  too  early. 

"But  this  voiture  is  for  Monsieur,"  said  the  host,  indicat- 
ing myself. 

"  0,  ah  !  beg  pardon  ;  but  the  fellow  said  it  was  a  car- 
riage going  to  St.  Moritz." 

"  And  I  am  going  to  St.  Moritz,"  said  I. 

"  Really  !  Most  extraordinary  thing!  I've  engaged  car- 
riage for  same  route  half  an  hour  later." 

"  Monsieur's  carriage  will  be  ready  in  half  an  hour,"  said 
the  landlord,  bowing.     Wily  host ;  he  had  kept  the  fact  that 


S40  A    MEMORABLE    MOUNTAIN. 

both  guests  were  going  over  the  same  route  from  each,  and 
ourselves  for  a  day  or  two  looking  for  compauious  till  at 
last  each  took  separate  conveyances. 

However,  it  is  doubtful  if  the  Englishman  would  have 
joined  us  ;  but,  as  he  found  we  were  to  precede  him  on  the 
road,  he  politely  requested  us  to  order  rooms  for  him  after 
we  had  selected  our  own,  and  was,  as  all  well-educated 
English  gentlemen  are,  a  most  agreeable  and  courteous 
travelling  companion  and  friend  after  the  outer  crust  of 
reserve  had  been  fairly  broken. 

We  left  our  clean  and  comfortable  hotel,  passed  over  the 
bridge  above  the  rushing  and  roaring  river  Inn,  and  once 
more  were  on  the  full  trot  on  the  post-road  on  a  fine  sum- 
mer's morning.  Away  we  rattle  along  past  the  shooting- 
ground,  and  leave  the  river  at  our  left,  but  the  valley  and 
ravine  gradually  narrow,  and,  after  a  ride  of  half  a  dozen 
miles  or  so,  we  are  pressed  back  towards  the  river  again  by 
the  rising  precipices,  until  at  last  the  great  perpendicular 
Martinswand,  as  it  is  called,  pushes  the  road  to  the  very 
bank. 

This  Martinswand  is  one  of  the  celebrities  of  the  coun- 
try. It  signifies  "  Martin's  Wall,"  and  is  an  almost  perpen- 
dicular precipice  eighteen  hundred  and  thirty  feet  above 
the  road,  on  which  we  stand  to  look  at  a  sort  of  cave  or 
crevice  in  it,  which  is  over  seven  hundred  feet  above  our 
heads. 

We  can  see  a  crucifix  that  is  set  up  there  opposite  the 
hole  in  the  wall,  and  the  story  is  that  the  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian, trying  to  descend,  found  himself  at  a  point  where  he 
could  neither  advance  nor  retreat.  lie  succeeded,  however, 
in  reaching  this  hole,  or  chasm.  Here  he  clung  between 
heaven  and  earth,  as  it  were,  and  after  a  long  time  was  able 
to  make  known  to  his  people  where  he  was,  by  writing  on 
his  tablet,  which  he  bound  to  a  stone  with  his  gold  chain 
and  threw  down  to  those  on  the  road  below. 

All,   of  course,    was   dismay  and  confusion.     The  priest 


A  PERILOUS   POSITION.  341 

was  sent  for  from  the  neighboring  town  of  Zirl,  who  was  to 
come  and  offer  prayers  for  succor,  or  implore  aid  of  the 
Virgin,  or  something  of  the  kind.  But,  while  the  ecclesias- 
tic was  getting  on  his  vestments  and  arranging  the  necessary 
paraphernalia,  an  effort  of  a  more  practical  nature  was  in 
progress.  A  party  of  miners  had  assembled  with  ropes  at 
the  top  of  the  cliff,  but  they  were  almost  as  hopeless  as  the 
spectators  at  the  base,  for  the  monarch  was  over  a  thousand 
feet  below  them.  But  one  of  their  number,  stouter  and 
bolder  than  the  rest,  contrived  to  reach  him,  and  bore  him 
up  after  he  had  been  in  his  perilous  plight  fifty-two  hours. 

The  emperor  was  duly  grateful.  He  caused  the  crevice 
that  had  sheltered  him  to  be  enlarged  to  a  cell,  and  the 
miners  to  cut  a  path  down  to  it  for  the  use  of  those  who 
should  desire  to  make  pious  pilgrimages  to  the  place,  which 
is  called  the  Max-Hiihle,  and  a  pension  was  settled  upon 
his  rescuer,  Oswald  Zips,  of  Zirl,  which  is  said  to  be  drawn 
by  his  descendants  to  this  day.  This  incident  in  the 
emperor's  life  is  said  to  have  occurred  on  Easter  Monday 
and  the  following  day,  in  1490,  and  is  celebrated  in  Tyrolean 
ballard  and  story. 

The  following  is  the  somewhat  literal  translation  of  an 
extract  from  a  popular  ballad  describing  the  king's  danger- 
ous position. 

Here  helped  no  spring, 

No  eagle-swing, 

Por  under  hina  lay  the  Martins-wand, 

The  steepest  rock  in  all  the  land. 

A  sound  as  of  thunder  roared  at  his  feet, 
Where  a  tumult  of  men  surged  below  him  so  deep, 
Above  them  all  his  Highness  stands  — 
But  not  raised  in  homage  over  the  lands. 

On  an  airy  throne 

Max  is  loft  alone. 

Forsaken  and  small,  he  shuddering  thinks 

How  to  an  object  of  pity  he  shrinks. 


342  ROUTE    TO   THE    ENGADINE. 

We  took  our  noon  rest  at  Telfs,  and  then  pushed  on  over 
a  beautiful  drive  of  alternate  ascent  and  descent  until  we 
reached  Imst,  our  stopping-place  for  the  first  night,  a  pretty 
Tyrolean  town  of  two  or  three  thousand  inliabitants,  but 
where  we  found  at  the  tolerably  comfortable  inn  that  Tyro- 
lean-German was  trumps  and  French  at  a  discount ;  but, 
thanks  to  the  perfect  knowledge  of  the  former  tongue  by 
the  wife  of  our  English  compagnon  de  voyage,  as  we  now 
felt  we  might  call  him,  our  wants  were  made  intelligible. 

From  Imst  we  start  off  again  over  our  romantic  road, 
passing  now  and  then  crosses  with  rudely  executed  figures 
of  the  crucifixion  by  the  roadside  ;  some  of  them  mere  hor- 
rible caricatures,  or  shrines  with  the  Virgin  and  child,  at 
which  little  offerings  of  flowers  or  tinsel  ornaments  had 
been  made.  We  reach  Prutz,  a  little  village  in  a  flat,  open 
space,  and  which  I  chiefly  remember  for  its  bad  inn  and 
insufficient  lunch,  which  we  were  obliged  to  eke  out  from 
the  supplies  brought  with  us  from  Innspruck.  We  rattled 
away  from  here  with  good  will,  following  the  course  of  the 
river  Inn,  and  now  having  those  glorious  views  of  mountains, 
distant  and  near,  that  are  the  charm  of  Alpine  journeys. 
After  passing  through  the  little  village  Pfunds,  and  viewing 
the  afternoon  sun  sparkling  upon  the  snow-caps  of  the  dis- 
tant OEtzthal  Mountains,  and  clattering  over  a  wooden 
bridge  beneath  which  the  Inn  rushes  with  all  the  force  of  an 
Alpine  torrent  that  it  is,  we  begin  the  grand  ascent  of  the 
Finstermiinz  Pass. 

This  is  another  one  of  those  splendid  specimens  of  en- 
gineering and  road-building  that  excites  the  traveller's  ad- 
miration. The  road  is  cut  through  solid  rock,  high  above 
the  back  of  the  river  ;  great  tunnels  pierced  through  the 
rock  and  zigzags  carry  you  up,  up,  while  the  roaring  tor- 
rent rushes  below,  or  you  pass  between  narrow  walls  of 
dark  crags  rising  high  on  either  side  to  emerge  and  catch 
delightful  views  of  the  valley,  as  your  carriage  winds  elowly 
up  the  ascent  over  the  smooth,  well-built  road,  the  driver 


THE    FINSTERMiiNZ    PASS.  343 

on  foot  cheeriiig  his  team  and  singing  a  Tyrolean  song  ;  his 
peaked  hat  decorated,  as  I  notice  is  a  fashion  of  the  Tyro- 
lese,  and  one  which  travellers  readily  fall  into,  with  a  sprig 
of  Alpenrosen  or  mountain  wild-flowers. 

Great  gorges  of  wild,  jagged  rocks  are  in  every  variety 
of  picturesque  confusion ;  waterfalls  leaping  from  the  moun- 
tain side  rush  madly  down  to  swell  the  river  below  ;  great 
slaty  crags,  inky  as  darkness  itself,  jut  out  black  and  terri- 
ble, and  distant  views  of  green  hillsides,  with  the  slanting 
afternoon  sun  resting  upon  them,  and  at  the  same  time 
touching  the  patches  of  snow  on  the  distant  peaks,  —  all 
form  one  of  those  charming  Alpine  pictures  that  are  long 
embalmed  in  the  memories  of  those  that  have  looked  upon 
them. 

Up  we  go  through  this  cleft  in  the  mountains,  and  halt, 
on  the  Fourth  of  July,  for  our  late  dinner  and  second  night's 
rest,  upon  a  rocky  plateau  six  hundred  feet  above  the  river, 
at  an  inn  known  as  the  Inn  of  the  Hoch  Finstermiinz,  a  well- 
built,  well-furnished,  and  pretty  little  inn  ;  but  at  the  time 
of  our  visit,  under  a  financial  cloud,  owing  to  questionable 
transactions  of  a  form.er  landlord,  who  had  absconded.  The 
inn  was  now  thrown  open  to  catch  what  customers  it  might, 
and  would  accommodate  but  a  dozen  or  so  guests  at  most. 

On  this  particular  occasion,  it  being  the  national  anniver- 
sary of  our  country,  we  commenced  celebrating  by  a  patri- 
otic entry  upon  the  travellers'  register.  The  two  best  suites 
of  rooms  were  secured  for  ourselves  and  our  English  friends, 
we  four  being  the  only  guests  that  day  in  the  house  ;  they 
consisted  of  two  tolerably  sized  sleeping-apartments,  both 
opening  into  a  small  dining-room,  the  windows  of  which 
commanded  a  superb  view  of  the  wild,  romantic  gorge  and 
valley  beneath,  and  a  portion  of  the  narrow  string-like  line 
of  road  we  were  to  ride  over  on  the  morrow. 

What  would  we  have  for  dinner  ? 

"  Everything  —  the  best  in  the  house." 

They  had  "  chops,  potatoes,  bread,  tea,  eggs,  milk;  Mon- 
sieur should  have  all." 


344      "  THE  DAY  WE  CELEBRATE  "  IN  THE  ALPS. 

So  the  dinner  was  ordered,  and  our  English  friend's  car- 
riage, but  a  short  distance  behind  us,  rolled  up  to  the  door 
while  it  was  in  preparation. 

We  both  retired  to  cleanse  ourselves  from  the  stains  and 
dust  of  travel,  and  finally,  at  the  host's  summons,  gathered 
at  the  festive  board.  And  such  a  dinner  !  I  have  endured 
a  great  many  at  public  celebrations  in  my  own  country 
where  the  venerable  fowls,  saw-dusty  Washington  pie,  and 
cinnamon-flavored  ice-cream  made  one  dread  "  the  da^*^  we 
celebrate,"  but  they  must  yield  the  palm  to  this  banquet, 
three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level.  The  chops,  so 
called,  might  as  well  have  been  sole-leather,  as  far  as  any 
impression  could  be  made  upon  them  ;  the  fried  potatoes 
were  saturated  with  garlic-flavored  fat,  the  bread  dark,  hard, 
and  sour,  the  tea  vile.  The  banquet  was  sent  to  the  pos- 
tilions, and  a  dozen  boiled  eggs  ordered,  —  they  could  get 
no  grease  or  garlic  inside  their  shells.  The  last  of  the  Eng- 
lishman's lunch  stores  were  paraded,  and  my  own  last  bottle 
of  claret;  the  reader  may  be  assured  that  no  fragments  were 
left  of  that  feast. 

At  the  dessert  of  dry  biscuit  and  oranges,  the  American 
gave  the  first  regular  toast  of  the  occasion,  "  The  Queen." 
This  was  drank  standing  by  the  entire  tJompany.  The  next 
regular  toast,  "  The  President  of  the  United  States,"  was 
given  by  the  Englishman,  and  received  in  like  manner.  The 
Americ&n  then  (as  all  Americans  do)  made  a  speech  suitable 
to  the  occasion,  which  was  frequently  interrupted  by  ap- 
plause and  cries  of  "  hear,"  "  hear  "  from  the  English  por- 
tion of  the  audience,  and  concluded  with  the  strikingly 
original  toast  of  "The  Day  we  Celebrate,"  to' which  was 
added,  "  Peace  and  Fraternity  between  Great  Britain  and 
the  United  States."  After  the  applause  had  subsided,  the 
representative  of  Great  Britain  rose,  and  was  received  with 
great  enthusiasm,  especially  as  he  announced  that  his  ser- 
vant had  discovered  in  his  travelling  hamper  a  can  of  con- 
densed  cofiee   and    a  box   of   sardines.      The   speech   that 


IIOCH    FIXSTERMiiXZ.  345 

followed  contained  tlie  most  cordial  expressions  towards 
the  United  States,  arid  concluded  with  the  sentiment,  "The 
Independent  United  States,  may  they  endure  as  long-  as  civil- 
ized man  walks  the  face  (  f  the  earth." 

Other  patriotic  speeches  were  made,  and  the  national 
songs  of  both  countries  given,  and  the  company  separated 
at  an  early  hour,  half  past  eight.  Owing  to  the  general 
fatigue  of  all  parties  concerned,  further  celebration  was  dis- 
pensed with,  and  it  was  found  on  retiring  that,  though  the 
viands  were  bad,  the  beds  were  not,  and  a  refreshing  night's 
rest  was  enjoj'ed  in  the  pure,  cool  atmosphere  and  quiet  of 
this  mountain  region. 

The  sun  rises  early  when  you  lodge  high  up  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  it  is  a  grand  sight  to  see  him  rise,  sending-  the 
wreaths  of  mist  whirling  up  hillsides  and  ravines,  his  rays 
sparkling  upon  the  edges  of  ragged  cliffs  ere  he  mounts 
above  their  rocky  screens,  and  at  last  shooting  his  gleam- 
ing arrows  of  light  right  down  into  the  dark  gorge,  and 
turning  the  spray  of  the  mountain  torrent  into  diamond 
dust.  The  morning  air  is  cool  and  sharp,  though  it  is  July, 
as  we  walk  out  from  the  Iiotel  and  look  from  the  little  rocky 
platform  upon  which  it  stands  far  down  into  the  deep  ravine 
beneath  us.  Five  or  six  hundred  feet  below  where  we  stood, 
ran  our  old  friend  the  river  Inn,  forcing  his  way  through  the 
narrow  cleft  in  the  mountains;  across  the  stream  was  a  little 
wooden  bridge,  with  a  stone  tower  on  the  opposite  side,  and 
on  the  side  towards  us  was  a  little  group  of  three  houses, 
a  little  church,  and  a  mill.  Along  the  banks  of  the  river 
we  could  trace  the  windings  of  the  old  road,  and  from  our 
hotel-door,  stretching  to  the  left,  the  new  one. 

We  were  agreeably  surprised  in  the  morning  by  an  im- 
proved bill  of  fare  at  breakfast,  the  parties  in  charge  of  the 
house  and  the  Englishman's  postilion  having  been  on  a 
foraging  excursion  during  the  night.  An  improvement  in 
the  w^ay  of  fresh  milk,  eggs,  and  sweeter  bread,  was  wel- 
comed with  sharpened  appetites. 


346  WONDERS    OF    AX    ALPINE    PASS. 

Once  more  we  were  off.  The  road  was  now  a  succession 
of  eng-ineering  wonders  —  beautiful  views  and  grand  moun- 
tain scenerj^  that  I  liave  so  frequently  described.  Tunnels 
ran  through  solid  rock,  and  zigzags  along  the  edges  of  preci- 
pices ;  profound  gorges  fall  away  deep,  dark,  and  cavern- 
ous, and  the  trees  beneath  are  diminished  into  shrubs  by 
the  distance,  while  the  rough  aspect  of  the  rocks  becomes 
softened  from  the  same  cause  into  picturesque  groupings. 
The  narrow  defiles  and  road  cut  out  from  the  edge  of  the 
rock,  tunnels,  and  avalanche  galleries,  and  the  frequency  of 
the  dark,  slate-like  rocks,  reminds  one  of  the  Via  Mala  Pass. 

Coming  through  the  Tyrol,  one  cannot  help  noticing  what 
a  love  the  people  have  for  plants.  In  houses  a  little  better 
than  hovels,  where  the  women  were  barefooted,  and  the  chil- 
dren's faces  seemed  not  to  have  been  on  visiting  acquaint- 
ance with  soap  and  water  for  a  fortnight,  a  neat  little  shelf 
would  be  seen  placed  at  the  window,  which  would  be  filled 
with  several  varieties  of  geraniums,  double  clove-pinks,  and 
other  plants  that  must  have  been  rare  in  this  locality,  while 
in  the  better  class  of  houses  the  little  garden  would  be 
tastefully  arranged,  and  cloth-of-gold  roses,  rose  peonies, 
and  damask  roses  bloomed  in  profusion. 

Our  ride,  after  leaving  the  Finstermiinz  Inn,  carried  us 
past  a  beautiful  waterfall,  and  soon  after  we  came  to  the 
fortifications  that  guarded  the  entrance  into  Switzerland. 
The  narrow  road  was  spanned,  or  rather  commanded,  by  a 
stone  fort  as  solid  as  if  hewn  out  of  its  rocky  walls  —  as  a 
portion  of  it  is.  The  grim  cannon  pointed  down  directly  at 
us,  and  indeed  it  seems  as  if  a  single  discharge  would  have 
swept  every  square  inch  of  the  road  as  we  mounted  towards 
their  muzzles,  and  passed  through  the  guarded  gateway  from 
T^u'ol  into  Switzerland.  A  sharp  turn,  a  ride  across  a  com- 
paratively flat  piece  of  country,  and  then  we  begin  a  descent 
of  zigzags  till  we  reach  Martinsbruck,  where  we  halt  for 
rest. 

As  the  traveller  advances  into  the  upper  Engadine  valley, 


PICTURESQUE    SCENERY,  347 

he  cannot  but  be  struck  b}'^  the  marked  improvement  in  the 
appearance  of  tlie  people  the  moment  the  Protestant  and 
Romanscli  succeed  the  Koman  Catholic  villages.  The  rude 
crosses  and  roadside  shrines  in  glaring  colors,  the  ragged 
people  and  the  beggars,  are  succeeded  by  a  thriftier,  better 
clad,  and  more  intelligent-looking  community.  The  diflcr- 
ence  and  the  change  after  passing  from  the  boundary  of  the 
Tyrol  will  be  noted  at  almost  every  village  the  traveller 
passes. 

We  go  through  Strada,  with  its  little  stone  houses,  with 
deep-set  windows,  and  finally  reach  a  place  called  Remus, 
where  a  bridge  of  sixty-six  feet  span  leaps  a  tremendous 
gorge,  at  the  bottom  of  which  roars  in  feathery  foam  a  rush- 
ing torrent,  and  round  and  about  is  every  variety  of  wild 
and  picturesque  scenery,  including  the  remains  of  an  old 
feudal  castle  perched  high  above  us  in  its  rocky  eyrie.  Wc 
halted  here,  and  as  usual  did  homage  to  nature  in  our  admi- 
ration of  "  cloud-capped  towers,"  rugged  crags,  and  light 
and  shade  of  sunrays  and  shadow  that  made  portions  of  the 
view  look  like  a  great  picture,  as  indeed  it  was,  and  none 
but  God  can  paint  such. 

On  through  Schuls,  a  lively  little  village  with  very  neat- 
looking  houses;  round  and  about  it  there  seemed  to  be  some 
cultivated  patches,  looking  green  and  flourishing  on  the  hill- 
side in  the  afternoon  sun,  with  the  men  and  women  busy  at 
work  in  them  ;  and  now  we  are  driving  down  into  a  sort  of 
sheltered  valley  which  really  has  quite  a  home-like  appear- 
ance, for  all  along  the  hillsides  rise  veritable  boarding-houses, 
very  like  our  own  American  ones,  or  summer  hotels  at  pop- 
ular resorts.  We  meet  people  out  riding  on  horseback  or 
in  carriages  in  charming  Parisian-got-up  costumes  for  a 
watering  place  ;  cultivated  fields,  well-kept  gardens  gay 
with  flowers,  a  pretty  bridge  spanning  the  river,  and  a 
large,  well-built,  modern  hotel,  with  beautifully  laid-out 
grounds,  as  our  driver  starts  up  his  horses  into  a  brisk 
trot ;   and,   with  the    usual   flourish   and    fusillade   of  whip- 


348  TAEASP    SPRINGS. 

snapping,  brings  ns  up  at  the  entrance  of  the  Kurhaus,  or 
hotel  at  Tarasp,  where  we  arc  to  pass  the  second  night  of 
our  journey. 

This  hotel  was  indeed  a  charming  contrast  with  the  one 
of  the  evening  previous.  It  has  been  established  at  this 
point,  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  near  a  mineral  spring  which 
is  said  to  possess  certain  medicinal  virtues  ;  and  arriving  as 
we  did  in  the  height  of  the  season,  when  several  hundred 
guests  were  present,  we  were  fortunate  in  obtaining  excel- 
lent rooms  for  the  night.  The  scenery  is  charming  about 
here,  the  hotel,  at  the  time  we  visited  it,  excellently  kept, 
except,  if  it  be  an  exception,  on  calling  for  butter  at  the 
great  table  dliote  at  tea,  we  were  told  that  it  was  not  per- 
mitted, this  being  a  Kurhaus  for  parties  being  treated  for 
their  health.  Three  kinds  of  preserved  fruit,  excellent 
bread  and  honey,  and  cold  meat,  were  allowed,  and  I  don't 
know  how  many  other  good  things,  but  butter  and  pastry 
were  forbidden,  and  could  not  be  bribed  or  begged  from  the 
servants. 

We  left  the  elegant  hotel  of  the  Tarasp  Springs  behind  us 
as  we  proceeded  on  our  journey,  a  charming  drive,  with 
beautiful  Alpine  scenery  all  about  us,  and  the  rushing  river 
Inn  still  our  companion.  We  soon  note  a  better  class  of 
people  and  a  better  class  of  buildings  in  the  villages,  and 
also  a  different  kind  of  language  from  what  we  have  en- 
countered before,  for  we  are  passing  through  the  country 
of  the  descendants  of  the  Romans,  who  fled  here  687  b.  c. 
to  escape  from  the  Gauls,  and  who  were  the  first  inhabi- 
tants of  the  Engadine  Valley,  their  language,  the  Romansch, 
a  queer  sort  of  dialect.  The  beggars,  squalid  huts,  and 
numerous  pra^nng  stations  and  roadside  crucifixes  are  left 
behind,  and  at  each  village,  beside  the  chalets  of  the  poorer 
class,  are  generally  some  two  or  three  big  (for  these  lati- 
tudes) Swiss  houses,  strongly  built  of  stone,  somewhat  after 
the  pattern  of  their  humbler  neighbors,  but  with  pretentious 
entrance,  large  garden  brilliant  with  flowers,  and  inner  bal- 


THE   ENGADINE    VALLEY. 


549 


cony  of  carved  wood  brightly  painted ;  cleanliness,  white- 
wash, and  paint,  their  summer  dress,  making  them  conspic- 
uous. 

These  are  mainly  residences  of  those  who  have  returned 
to  their  native  villages  with  small  fortunes  made  as  keepers 
of  hotels,  pastry  cooks,  waiters,  confectioners,  glass-blowers, 
and  followers  of  other  occupations  in  the  continental  cities, 
the  Engadine  Valley  being  noted  for  the  number  that  it 
sends  out  that  take  up  with  these  occupations,  and  who 
possess  so  strong  a  love  for  their  native  villages,  notwith- 
standing the  inhospitality  of  the  climate,  which  gives  scarce- 
ly more  than  three  montlis  of  mild  weather,  that  they  return 
thither  to  enjoy  their  prosperity. 

Twisting  in  and  out  the  mountain  roads,  we  pass  the  vil- 
lage of  Ardetz,  which  is  said  to  have  been  founded  by  the 
ancient  Etruscans.  The  valley  here  is  picturesque  and 
beautiful,  with  its  green  slope  down  to  the  river  veined 
with  sparkling  streams  gliding  down  its  side,  while  upon  the 
heights,  here  and  there,  are  the  shattered  walls  or  solitary 
tower  of  ruined  old  castles.  High  above  pleasant  green 
slopes  on  one  side  of  the  valley,  rise  snow-capped  mountains, 
and  dark,  sombre  forests  clothe  the  heights  of  the  other.  We 
reach  the  little  village  of  Lavin,  a  place  that  had  recently 
suffered  from  a  fire,  but  a  Protestant  and  apparently  thrifty 
place,  which  leaving  behind  we  again  meet  the  river  Inn, 
have  a  beautiful  drive  through  a  pine-clad  valley,  and  enter 
Zernetz,  which  presented  a  melancholy  spectacle  indeed,  the 
whole  village,  with  the  exception  of  the  church  and  two 
houses,  being  in  ruins,  having  been  destroyed  by  fire  a  few 
months  previous,  —  a  severe  blow  to  the  inhabitants,  and  ex- 
citing the  liveliest  sj^mpathy  in  their  behalf,  contributions 
for  them  being  taken  up  in  England.  The  church,  which 
was  fortunately  preserved,  was  built  in  1623. 

We  rode  through  the  silent  and  deserted  little  streets  of 
shattered  stone  houses  blackened  with  fire,  and  were  stared 
at'Curiously  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  only  two  remaining 


350  SAMADEN. 

ones  as  we  passed  them,  and  pushed  on  till  we  reached 
Samaden,  the  wealthiest  town  in  the  district ;  and  here  many 
of  the  retired  innkeepers  and  pastry  cooks  before  men- 
tioned have  built  their  pretty  chalets.  The  street  is  well 
laid  out ;  there  are  a  banker,  post-office,  and  telegraph  office, 
and  two  large  hotels.  The  Bernina  Ilof  was  a  large  and 
splendid  house,  filled  with  two  or  three  hundred  guests.  It 
was  kept  as  well  as  our  great  mountain  and  seaside  resorts. 
Its  balconies,  upon  which  sat  ladies  and  gentlemen  at  little 
tables,  sipping  their  coffee  after  dinner,  command  a  magnifi- 
cent panorama,  the  Berniner  Alps,  their  cold  glaciers  and 
sparkling  snow-peaks  soaring  away  up  into  the  blue  sky  be- 
yond the  patch  of  green  valley  that  lies  between.  All  around 
Samaden  is  beautil'ul  scenery  and  pleasant  drives.  Many 
of  the  houses  about  here  have  inscriptions  in  a  curious  mix- 
ture of  Romansch  and  French  upon  them,  generally  brief 
extracts  from  Scrij^ture.  I  copied  one  from  a  little  church 
in  a  village  between  Samaden  and  St.  Moritz,  which  read, 
"  A  DiEU  SuLET  Gloria  Ed  Onur,"  signifying,  doubtless, 
To  God  alone  is  Gloiy  and  Praise. 

The  little  einspanner  —  a  calash  or  chaise  —  carrying  two 
beside  the  driver,  who  is  perched  on  in  front,  will  carry  you 
to  Pontresina,  St.  Moritz,  and  other  villages  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  to  numerous  romantic  spots  and  stretches  of 
scenery,  while  all  around  the  vicinity  in  the  summer  season 
of  the  year  the  fields  and  hillsides  are  rich  in  the  bright  and 
curious  flora  of  the  Alps,  affording  a  most  interesting  study 
for  the  botanist. 

AVhile  our  horf^es  were  resting  here  at  Samaden,  we 
enjo^^ed  the  unexpected  pleasure  of  an  interview  with  the 
Danish  author,  Hans  Christian  Andersen.  The  good-natured 
fairy  story-teller,  who  was  then  sojourning  at  the  hotel,  on 
hearing  that  two  Americans  that  had  read  his  books  would 
like  to  see  him,  came  to  us  with  extended  hands  of  welcome, 
though  just  returned  from  a  fatiguing  excursion  to  the  Mor- 
teratsch  glacier.     He  had  but  recently  returned  from  Italy, 


HANS    CHRISTIAN    ANDERSEN.  351 

where  he  had  been  for  his  health,  and  had  been  staying 
here  for  a  week's  rest  ere  returning  to  Copenhagen.  He 
was  tall,  thin,  even  attenuated  in  figure,  his  head  small, 
but  forehead  high,  which  was  the  only  point  of  beauty  in 
his  face,  his  nose  being  large  and  prominent,  cheek-bones 
very  distinct,  and  his  gray  eyes  small,  but  they  sparkled 
with  a  pleasant  smile  which  wreathed  his  lips  ;  and  his  sim- 
ple manner  pleased  as  a  child  to  be  praised,  and  his  gentle 
tones  made  it  eas}'  to  see  why  he  was  personally  so  prime  a 
favorite  with  young  people.  He  was  pale,  and  appeared 
exceedingly  feeble  in  health. 

He  was  delighted  as  a  child  when  told  that  his  stories 
were  read  and  admii-ed  by  the  children  in  America,  and  in- 
quired if  we  had  any  storks  there,  and  wondered  how  the 
children  could  uiiderstand  some  of  his  stories  if  they  were 
not  familiar  with  storks,  as  the  boys  and  girls  of  Denmark, 
but  that  he  had  written  some  stories  expressly  for  the  chil- 
dren of  America. 

"Ah,"  said  he  with  a  sigh,  "were  I  not  so  nearly  done 
with  life,  I  slioukl  like  to  see  America." 

I  assured  him  he  would  meet  a  cordial  welcome,  especially 
from  the  little  people. 

"  Give  my  love  to  them  all,"  said  he,  "and  tell  them  I 
enjoy  telling  them  fairy  stories  ;  and  stay,  here  is  a  little  me- 
mento of  our  interview  which  you  may  show  the  children  in 
Andersen's  own  handwriting  ;  "  and  he  wrote  in  Danish  a 
sentence,  beneath  which  he  also  wrote  its  English  transla- 
tion, — 

"Life  is  the  most  beautiful  fairy  tale. 

Hans  Christian  Andersen." 

And  then  bade  us  good-bye. 

Poor  Andersen  —  but  I  will  not  say  poor,  either,  for  he 
was  rich  in  the  affection  of  all  classes  in  his  native  land,  as 
well  as  elsewhere,  where  his  writings  have  been  read.  His 
death  took  place  at  Copenhagen  two  years  after  I  saw  him, 
and  at  his  funeral  the  affection  of  all  classes  was  shown  by 


352  ST.    MORITZ. 

the  immense  gathering.  The  royal  family  were  there,  and 
the  poor  were  present,  and  deputations  from  all  parts  of  Den- 
mark and  other  countries,  and,  as  one  writer  expresses  it, 
many  persons  were  as  much  taken  by  surprise  as  they 
would  have  been  if  it  had  been  reported  that  ^sop  had 
died. 

Away  off  at  the  left,  as  we  leave  Samaden,  rises  the  high 
peak  of  Piz  Roseg,  whose  icy  point  pierces  the  clouds 
twelve  thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level,  and  you  catch 
views  of  the  Piz  Bernina,  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  feet, 
the  highest  peak  of  the  Bernina  chain.  But  twilight  is  ap- 
proaching, the  air  chill,  though  in  July,  as  we  roll  through 
two  little  villages  close  together  in  the  valley  after  leaving 
Samaden  and  begin  to  wind  up  the  hillside  towards  our  point 
of  destination.  As  we  reach  a  bend  in  the  road  before  en- 
tering a  wood,  the  driver  halts,  and  we  look  back  to  have  a 
charming  view  of  the  valley  of  the  Inn  through  which  we 
have  passed  since  leaving  Zernetz.  The  road  twists  and 
winds  about,  and  strings  the  two  little  villages  of  Cresta  and 
Celerina,  scarce  a  mile  below  us,  upon  its  thread ;  five  miles 
further  on  is  Samaden,  and  Zernetz  is  at  the  end  of  the 
straight-line  view,  which  is  closed  by  a  lofty  mountain 
which  rises  behind  it. 

Up  we  mount,  and  with  the  setting  sun  enter  the  village 
of  St.  Moritz,  nearly  six  thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level, 
a  place  which  is  said  to  enjoy  nine  months  of  winter  and 
three  of  cool  weather.  The  season  for  visitors  is  from  the 
middle  of  June  to  the  middle  of  September,  and  we  had  ar- 
rived at  the  height  of  it,  so  we  were  passed  by  parties  who 
had  been  out  to  ride,  to  walk,  and  to  ramble,  returning 
homewards:  Englishmen,  with  veil-wreathed  hats  and  alpen- 
siocks,  young  fellows  with  stout  shoes  and  knickerbocker 
suits,  who  also  have  been  climbing  the  neighboring  moun- 
tains, and  others  whose  dust-covered  clothes  and  browned 
faces  told  of  pedestrian  excursions. 

Every  now  and  then  an  einspiinner,  reminding  one  of  the 


A   FASHIONABLE    RESORT.  353 

Canada  calecho  or  Cuban  volante,  clashed  past  with  its  sturdy 
little  horse,  and  pair  of  passengers  behind,  and  we  met 
ruddy-faced  English  girls  iu  plain  short  merino  drosses, 
broad  hats  and  stout  slioes,  returning  from  their  rambles. 
Evidently  we  were  going  to  a  popular  resort  if  it  was  high 
up  in  the  Swiss  mountains  ;  and  so  it  proved,  for  the  little 
village,  which  will  number  scarce  four  hundred  of  its  own 
inhabitants,  and  not  a  quarter  of  that  out  of  season,  had  now 
two  or  three  thousand  from  various  parts  of  the  Continent, 
drawn  thither  for  various  reasons,  chief  among  which  might 
be  mentioned  that  the  mineral  springs  here  are  pronounced 
the  best  of  their  kind  in  Europe.  They  are  a  powerful 
chalybeate,  strongly  impregnated  with  carbonic  acid  and 
alkaline  salts,  and  very  efficacious  for  scrofulous  affections, 
diseases  of  the  stomach,  and  impaired  digestion.  This  effi- 
cacy brings  of  course  many  exhausted  fast  livers  here  for 
the  waters,  and,  there  being  among  them  quite  a  sprinkling 
of  titled  ones,  the  place  is  the  fashion.  Moreover,  it  is  com- 
paratively a  new  place,  or  was  at  the  time  of  the  author's 
visit,  the  gambling-houses  of  Baden-Baden  having  been 
closed,  and  pleasure-seekers  hungering  for  a  new  sensation 
were  making  this  the  fashionable  watering  place  ;  and  a  de- 
lightful and  comfortable  one  it  is  during  the  hot  season,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  waters,  the  beneficial  effects  of  which 
are  indisputable. 

We  had  directed  our  driver,  on  arrival  at  St.  Moritz,  to 
carry  us  to  the  grand  hotel,  the  Kurhaus,  the  fashionable 
resort,  built  over  the  springs,  about  a  mile  beyond  and  be- 
low the  village  itself  ;  and,  having  sent  forward  despatches 
two  days  in  advance,  looked  forward  confidently  to  a  com- 
fortable rest  in  comfortable  rooms  at  the  end  of  our  four 
days'  journey.  So  we  rolled  by  "  Badrutt's,"  or  Engadine 
Culm,  a  big,  square  hotel,  where  the  Countess  of  Dudley  was 
staying,  and  groups  on  the  space  in  front  were  looking  down 
upon  ourselves  and  other  road-passers  ;  and  then  we  began 
to  wind  through  the  little  narrow  zigzag  street  of  the  town 
23 


354 


CROWDED    OUT. 


(built  so  as  to  shelter  against  the  fierce  winds  of  ftill  and 
winter)  and  past  several  pretty  pensions  or  boarding- 
houses,  to  the  great  house  which  we  could  see  resting  in  the 
valley  below.  The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  mountains, 
and  the  numerous  guests  thronging  in  to  a  late  dinner,  or 
early  tea,  as  our  dust-covered  vehicle  whirled  through  the 
ornamental  driveway  of  the  grounds  and  drew  up  at  the 
principal  entrance. 

Here  I  descended,  and  was  met  at  the  threshold  by  the 
host. 

Did  Monsieur  desire  apartments  ? 

Certainly  he  did,  —  his  card,  (presenting  it;)  he  had 
envoyed  un  message  two  days  ago. 

The  host  shrugged  his  shoulders  ;  he  had  not  an  empty 
closet  ill  tlie  house. 

"  What,  nothing  ?  "  and  I  took  out  a  gold  Napoleon  in 
my  hand. 

The  Frenchman's  eyes  glistened. 

"  Ah,  pardon,  Monsieur,  mats  vraiment,^'  he  had  nothing, 
the  house  was  full,  and  he  rattled  off  with  such  volubility 
and  with  so  many  shrugs  and  deprecatory  gestures,  that  we 
were  glad  when  the  clerk,  who  spoke  English,  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance. 

In  response  to  our  assertion  that  we  had  telegraphed,  he 
asked  me  to  look  in  at  the  telegraph  bureau,  near  which  I 
was  standing,  and  there,  at  the  side  of  the  instrument,  were 
a  score  of  messages  beside'my  own  —  "and  all  these,  re- 
ceived before  Monsieur's,  must  be  disappointed." 

It  was  true  ;  the  place  was  crammed,  and  we  were  late 
comers,  and  must  find  quarters  elsewhere. 

The  great  Kurhaus  had  been  enlarged  the  last  season,  so 
that  at  the  time  of  our  arrival  it  held  more  than  five  hun- 
dred guests,  but  the  new  accommodations  were  all  taken  ; 
so  we  must  turn  and  climb  the  hill  that  we  had  just  descended, 
back  to  the  village  with  our  tired  horses,  and  seek  accom- 
modations where  we  could  find  them. 


A    MINIATCRE    HOTEL.  355 

The  English-speaking'  clerk  was  good  enough  to  give  us 
a  hint,  which  we  were  not  slow  to  act  upon,  which  was  to 
go  to  the  Pension  Suisse,  and  take  the  best  engaged  rooms 
that  were  not  yet  occupied,  "  agreeing"  to  vacate  at  "im- 
mediate notice  "  in  case  of  arrival  of  parties  who  had  en- 
gaged them. 

The  Pension  Suisse  was  a  neat  little  hotel  in  the  village  ; 
the  host  had  no  rooms  in  the  house  itself,  but,  sure  enough, 
in  its  dependency,  the  Flugi-Engelberg  directly  across  a 
roadway,  were  two  nice  rooms,  saloon  and  sleeping  apart- 
ment, wliich  were  reserved  for  some  distinguished  party, 
and  if  Monsieur  would  take  them  for  a  week  and  submit  to 
be  moved  in  case  my  Lord  and  Lady  Nozoo  should  arrive, 
then  he  could  be  accommodated. 

Monsieur  and  madame,  fatigued  and  dust-covered  with 
four  days  of  post  travel,  were  but  too  happy  to  obtain  such 
comfortable  accommodations  as  these  proved  to  be.  The 
little  Pension  Suisse  contained  about  twenty  rooms,  was 
beautifully  clean  and  well  kept ;  the  reputation  that  the  En- 
gadine  has  of  furnishing  pastry  cooks,  waiters,  confectioners, 
cafe  managers,  &c.,  for  the  Continent,  was  borne  out  by  the 
cuisine  here  and  a  specimen  of  a  tiny  confectioner's  shop  un- 
der the  hotel,  in  which  barely  half  a  dozen  customers  could 
get  in  at  once,  but  where  the  Veclairs,  cream  cakes,  bon- 
bons, and  pastry  were  not  excelled  by  the  best  in  Paris  and 
Vienna. 

The  dining-room,  with  its  table  dliote  and  little  tables  for 
dinner  a  la  carte,  overlooked  the  quaint  little  zigzag  Swiss 
street,  up  and  down  which  went  goats  and  cows  and  dili- 
gence, einspdnnei's,  Tyroleans,  and  tourists,  a  curious  med- 
ley, during  early  hours  of  morning  and  evening. 

Our  lodgings  were  in  the  Dependence,  a  solid  stone  man- 
sion of  two  stories  in  height,  situated  upon  the  verge  of  the 
hillside  at  the  end  of  the  village  nearest  the  Kurhaus,  and 
commanding  a  wild  and  romantic  Tyrolean  view.  First, 
sloping  downward  from  beneath  our  windows,  extended  a 


356  DELIGHTFUL   QUARTERS. 

bank  of  verdure,  crowded  with  fragrant  wild-flowers;  be- 
yond lay  a  placid  lake  of  emerald  green,  about  two  miles  in 
length  by  a  mile  in  width,  calm  as  a  mirror,  and  reflecting 
the  lofty  peak  that  seemed  to  rise  from  its  opposite  shore 
and  pierce  the  sky  ten  thousand  feet  above,  but  which  was 
really  miles  beyond  its  verge.  The  mountains  opposite 
were  beautifully  green,  with  verdure  at  their  base  ;  then 
above,  as  it  gradually  disappeared,  there  came  into  view  the 
numberless  silvery  and  flashing,  ribbon-like  streams  and  cas- 
cades that  flowed  downwards  from  the  glaciers  and  vast 
snow-robe  that  enveloped  the  whole  range  of  lofty  peaks 
high  above  and  before  us.  The  lofty  mountains  and  their 
snow  crown  are  mirrored  in  the  lake  below  them  by  day  ; 
at  early  morn  the  sunrise  upon  their  glittering  heads  is  a 
glorious  sight ;  and  at  moonrise,  with  the  stars  shining  in 
the  deep  blue  of  the  heavens,  the  moonbeams  bring  them 
out  with  a  strange,  weird  cttect  of  ghastly  white. 

Far  beyond  us,  some  two  hundred  feet  below  the  level  of 
the  plateau  on  which  our  little  hotel  rests,  at  the  end  of  the 
deep,  emerald  green  of  the  lake,  and  in  a  sort  of  flat,  scooped- 
out  valley,  which  would  be  close  and  hot,  if  there  could  be 
such  a  thing  in  this  altitude,  rests  the  great  hotel,  a  huge, 
white  structure,  with  wings  and  L's,  —  a  village  in  itself,  — 
which,  seen  with  its  glittering  lights  across  the  lake  at  night, 
reminds  one  of  a  New-England  cotton  factory.  This  beau- 
tiful lake  at  the  mountain-base,  —  a  natural  Alpine  mirror, 
and  doubtless  principally  an  accumulation  of  glacier-water,  — 
nevertheless  furnishes  delicious  trout,  which  often  grace  our 
breakfast-table. 

Round  and  about  its  margin  Tyrolean  washer-women 
gather,  kneeling  on  their  little  board  platforms,  and  washing 
in  the  cold  water  all  day  long,  keeping  up  a  healthy  circula- 
tion of  the  blood  by  the  vigorous  manner  in  which  they  beat 
and  assault  the  clothes  under  ablution.  At  one  end,  towards 
the  village,  the  waters  of  the  lake  tumble  over  in  a  series 
of  pretty  cascades,  forming  a  portion  of  the  source  of  the 


SCENES    AT    THE    SPRIXGS.  357 

river  Inn  ;  and  on  the  romantic  wooded  banks  here,  the  de- 
vious walks,  shaded  by  forest-trees,  form  a  most  enchanting 
lovers'  promenade. 

There  are  two  winding  roads  down  to  the  Kurhaus,  —  the 
one  near  the  lake,  which  carries  you  through  a  newly  started 
village  (by  this  time  possibly  completed)  of  carpenters  and 
masons,  erecting  another  hotel,  handsomely  built  of  stone, 
of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  rooms,  fronting  the  lake,  and 
also  several  lesser  buildings  and  dependencies,  showing  the 
rapidity  with  which  St.  Moritz  has  recently  grown  into  pub- 
lic favor.  The  other,  or  upper  road,  is  less  steep  and  less 
direct,  and  that  generally  taken  by  the  diligence  and  other 
vehicles,  and  leads  past  a  tiny  English  church,  that  might 
hold,  possibly,  a  congregation  of  seventy-five  persons. 

The  extended  arms  of  the  hotel  embrace  a  handsomely 
laid-out  park,  and  walks  in  front  of  it ;  but  in  the  middle  of 
the  day  in  July,  when  the  sun  beats  down  fiercely,  one  is 
glad  to  get  into  the  friendly  shade  of  the  house  or  bath- 
room corridors.  A  long,  covered  passage,  or  promenade, 
leads  from  the  hotel  to  the  springs,  or,  as  the  English  al- 
ways unpoetically  designate  the  place,  "  the  pump-room," 
whore  the  water  is  served,  morning,  noon,  and  evening,  to 
drinkers.  There  is  an  array  of  mugs  here  in  their  racks, 
labelled  like  those  in  an  American  barber's  shop  ;  tumblers 
and  glasses,  some  with  crests  and  initials,  also  decanters  and 
bottles  belonging  to  the  drinkers,  who  come  down  in  force 
in  the  morning  when  the  band  plaj^s,  and  fill  the  broad  hall 
that  surrounds  the  springs,  as  they  promenade,  glass  in 
hand,  clad  in  elegant  neglige  morning  costume,  listen  to  the 
music,  and  chat  with  each  other. 

Tlie  scene  then  is  a  gay  one  :  ladies  in  ravishing  cos- 
tumes, in  delicate  morning  hats  and  dainty  slippers,  some 
pale-faced  and  thin,  others  rosy  and  healthy  ;  old  dowagers, 
mere  shadows  in  muslin  and  diamonds,  here  in  the  vain  hope 
that  they  may  find  in  this  the  fountain  of  youth  they  have 
vainly  sought  all   over  the  Continent ;   the  really  ill,  with 


358  A    STUDY    OF    CHARACTERS. 

marks  of  suffering  in  their  worn  faces  and  exhausted 
frames  ;  men  in  velvet  morning  dressing-suits,  slippers,  and 
embroidered  caps,  to  whom  a  three  months'  banishment 
from  fast  life  and  the  same  amount  of  hard  labor  and  plain 
food  would  brin.g  more  health  tnan  any  spring-water  in  ex- 
istence ;  exhausted  old  titled  roues,  with  eye-glasses,  and  in 
costumes  twenty  years  too  young  for  them,  some  hobbling 
painfully  along  by  the  aid  of  a  cane,  and  others  leaning 
upon  the  arm  of  a  liveried  valet ;  overfed  Englishmen  or 
Germans  under  diet  to  get  their  bursting  skins  down  to  rea- 
sonable dimensions,  and  turgid  livers  into  decent  working 
order ;  fat  old  dowagers  sitting  in  the  window  recesses, 
holding  their  glasses  of  water  suspended  beneath  their  lips, 
as  they  gossip  over  it  with  each  other,  as  at  a  tea-drinking. 

Then  there  were  scores  of  young  people  and  young  lov- 
ei's,  —  some  who  had  come  because  it  was  then  a  new  place, 
and  the  fashion  ;  others  who  had  come  down  with  uncle 
Joe,  who  wanted  to  try  the  water  a  week  or  two  for  his 
gout ;  and  the  two  sisters,  Blonde  and  Brunette,  who  had 
come  with  mother  for  her  neuralgia  ;  and  the  others  who 
had  come  with  their  father,  an  old  Indian  officer,  whose  yel- 
low visage  told  of  curry-powder  and  a  liver  that  bothered 
him.  There  was  the  usual  sprinkling  of  titled  individuals, 
and,  as  is  usual  in  such  places,  those  making  the  greatest 
parade  were  likely  to  be  the  most  impecunious. 

The  band  played,  and  the  groups  sauntered  about :  here 
a  pair  was  followed  by  a  liveried  servant  to  replenish  or  take 
the  cup  when  emptied  ;  others  repaired  to  the  basin  of  hot 
water  to  heat  their  draughts  to  a  certain  temperature  ;  and 
others,  having  drank,  lounged  round  the  long  bazaar  of  a 
do/en  stalls,  or  ornamented  booths,  where  Swiss  girls  sold 
carved  wood-work,  trinkets,  jewelry,  laces,  wrought  hand- 
kerchiefs and  embroidery,  for  which  the  neighboring  countiy 
is  celebrated  ;  crystals,  photographs,  pictures,  glass-work, 
and  other  attractive  fancy  goods. 

There  are  fifty  or  sixty  bath-rooms,  where  those  who  de- 


IMPROVING   AN    OPPORTUNITY.  359 

sire  to  be  treated  in  that  manner,  have  opportunity  to 
make  use  of  the  waters.  A  young  English  pliysician,  who 
came  up  here  without  practice  for  a  summer  excursion  a 
few  years  since,  before  the  phice  was  so  much  frequented, 
was  interested  in  an  anal3^sis  of  the  waters,  and,  on  his  re- 
turn to  London,  wrote  a  pamphlet,  or  book,  upon  the  sub- 
ject. It  was  favorably  commented  upon  ;  and  the  next 
season,  when  he  went  for  his  succeeding  summer  vacation, 
his  pamphlet  was  placed  on  the  bookstall  here,  it  being  the 
only  description  of  the  springs  and  their  properties,  the 
guide-books  hardly  mentioning  them.  Visitors  bought  it ; 
and  finally,  an  old  lady,  being  ill,  sent  for  him,  was  re- 
lieved, praised  his  treatment,  and  it  came  to  be  understood 
that  the  St.  Moritz  waters  should  be  drank  according  to 
medical  advice.  The  young  phj^sician  managed  his  business 
well,  eidarged  his  pamphlet  into  a  book,  took  rooms  en  suite, 
and  established  himself  at  the  Kurhaus  as  the  principal  phy- 
sician, numbering  his  patients  by  hundreds,  and,  taking  the 
tide  at  flood,  it  is  rapidly  leading  him  on  to  fortune. 

There  are  billiard  and  reading  rooms  attached  to  the  ho- 
tel, for  those  who  stay  indoors,  while,  outside,  the  numerous 
rides  and  rambles  in  easy  reach  render  the  place  particu- 
larly attractive.  There  is  a  beautiful  walk,  which  can  be 
accomplished  in  about  an  hour,  through  the  neighboring 
forest  to  a  high  point  that  commands  a  view  of  great  beauty, 
including  several  mountain  lakes  ;  excursions  to  the  neigh- 
boring villages,  valleys,  passes,  and  glaciers  can  be  made 
from  here  ;  an  ascent  of  the  Piz  Nair,  an  elevation  of 
about  nine  thousand  three  hundred  feet,  which  is  not  very 
difficult,  and  can  be  accomplished  in  about  three  hours  from 
St.  Moritz,  and  from  which  a  superb  view  of  the  snow- 
capped Bernina  chain  may  be  had. 

One  of  the  pleasantest  of  these  excursions  is  that  to  the 
neighboring  village  of  Pontreseina  and  thence  to  Morte- 
ratsch  Glacier.  In  an  einspanner',  myself  and  companion 
rode  a  delightful   drive  to  Pontreseina.     It  was  about  the 


360  A    ROMANTIC    RIDE. 

middle  of  July,  the  temperature  being  that  of  an  English 
May  morning,  or  the  early  June  of  New  England.  What 
harvest  there  is  here  in  the  Engadine  is  late,  and  it  had 
not  yet  been  gathered  in  ;  the  fields  were  a  perfect  wealth 
of  wild  flowers,  the  air  heavy  with  their  perfume,  and,  as  we 
came  to  the  village  itself,  after  a  ride  of  about  five  miles, 
the  gardens  of  the  people  were  rich  in  flowers  of  every 
hue.  Indeed,  the  place  might  be  said  to  be  noted  for 
the  floral  taste  of  its  inhabitants  ;  and  this,  let  it  be  remem- 
bered, in  a  place  about  six  thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level, — 
a  higher  altitude  than  Mt.  Rhigi,  described  in  the  author's 
former  work,  and  in  a  locality  where  grass  is  of  that  value 
that  dried  moss  is  used  as  the  bedding  for  cattle. 

At  Pontreseina  we  pulled  up  for  a  brief  rest  at  the  Roseg 
Hotel,  and  also  to  enjoy  from  its  balconies  a  panoramic  sight 
of  the  Roseg  Mountain  and  its  great  glacier,  which  is  spread 
out  in  full  view  here  (even  as  the  Jungfrau  is  before  the  win- 
dows of  the  Hotel  Victoria,  at  Interlaken),  for  it  is  but  three 
miles  distant ;  and  here  in  this  village  gather  those  enthu- 
siastic tourists  who  are  so  fond  of  glacier  excursions  and 
mountain-climbs,  for  there  is  an  abundant  opportunity  in 
the  vicinity  to  enjoy  them  without  any  great  risk. 

After  enjoying  our  mountain  view  of  Roseg  and  Bernina 
and  other  peaks  and  points,  and  the  broad  expanse  of  snow 
and  ice  elevated  far  above  us  in  the  blue  sky,  like  a  great, 
white-covered  altar  to  the  Most  High,  we  left  the  village 
behind  us,  coming  to  a  most  beautiful  waterfall  at  the  road- 
side,—  a  tumbling,  rattling  cascade,  bursting  out  of  the 
Languard  valley,  white  with  foam-wreaths,  —  a  genuine  Al- 
pine torrent,  a  view  for  a  painter,  having  the  conventional, 
picturesque  old  saw-mill  and  distant  Swiss  chalet,  and  two 
peasant  figures  in  red  dresses  and  blue  yarn  stockings, 
in  the  foreground.  Near  here  the  Bernina  Pass  begins,  and 
winds  about  its  course  of  ascent  above  us  :  we  are  still  in 
the  midst  of  romantic  Alpine  scenery  ;  for,  turn  which  way 
one   will,   the   lofty   peaks,    picturesque   crags,    or   wooded 


BERNINA    BROOK.  361 

heights  meet  the  view,  and  the  air  is  fiiled  with  the  rush  of 
brawiing  brooks. 

We  turn  off  from  the  main  road,  ride  through  some 
rough  la.id,  as  far  as  passable  for  our  vehicle,  and  halt ; 
the  driver  is  to  wait  till  our  return,  as  we  proceed  over  the 
little  foot-path  to  visit  without  a  guide  the  Bernina  Brook 
and  the  glacier.  We  plod  along  some  distance,  and  won- 
der whether  we  are  right  or  wrong,  and  with  that  uncer- 
tain feeling  of  what  if  we  were  to  lose  our  way  in  this  wild 
mountain  region  of  a  foreign  country  ;  but  the  path  is  well 
worn,  though  the'  country  is  wild  and  picturesque.  We 
round  a  turn  in  the  path,  and  in  a  nook  find  a  rough  little 
chalet  of  two  rooms,  one  of  which  answered  as  a  refreshment 
room  for  the  sale  of  a  very  limited  stock  of  refreshments,  — 
a  few  bottles  of  claret,  the  inevitable  show-card  with  the 
pink,  triangular  trade-mark  of  Bass  &  Co.,  announcing  pale 
ale  of  their  brewing,  and  a  few  biscuits.  Attached  was  a 
little  wooden  pagoda  and  a  sort  of  garden,  with  two  or 
three  tables  for  the  use  of  customers. 

The  only  occupants  of  the  place  were  a  woman  and  a  little 
child  ;  and  in  answer  to  our  signs,  the  former,  with  smiles 
and  pantomime,  indicated  to  us  to  go  on,  and  went  forward 
herself  to  open  a  sort  of  gateway  to  the  right  path,  placed 
there  evidently  I'or  a  slight  fee,  which  she  smilingly  and 
gratefully  received.  AVe  soon  reached  a  rustic  bridge,  in  a 
narrow,  rocky  gorge,  scarce  twenty  feet  in  width  :  from 
high  above,  down  the  irregular  chasm  over  the  jagged 
rocks,  leaps  and  rushes,  tumbles  and  roars,  the  waterfall. 
It  is  dark,  shady,  and  cool  here,  although  mid-day,  and  the 
showers  of  mist  fly  into  our  faces. 

From  the  side  of  the  bridge  we  observe  a  foot-path,  steep, 
to  be  sure,  but  wOrn  by  climbing  feet  ;  we  catch  at  shrubs 
and  trees,  and  ascend  to  see  the  source  of  our  glorious 
waterfall,  and  at  last  reach  the  summit,  when,  lo  !  here 
comes  down  another  still  above  us,  even  more  magnificent, 
precipitating  its  flood,  with  the  roar  of  a  true  torrent,  into 


362  THE    MORTERATSCH    GLACIER. 

a  great  rocky  basin,  whose  overflow  is  the  fall  below  us.  A 
rest  here,  and  enjoj'ment  of  a  look-up  at  this  superb  cascade 
and  down  at  the  one  left,  we  take  our  mountain-path  again, 
and  still  higher  encounter  the  third  waterfall  of  still  differ- 
ent and  equally  romantic  and  picturesque  description.  Yet 
higher,  and  we  emerge  from  among  the  trees  upon  the  rocky 
hillside,  which  is  red  with  huge  bushes  of  Alpenrosen,  and 
rich  in  sweet-smelling  purple  and  white  flowers.  The  tor- 
rent, still  some  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  in  width,  as  we  fol- 
low it,  is  a  succession  of  picturesque  bends,  rapids,  cascades, 
and  waterfalls  over  huge  masses  of  rock,  —  a  charmingly 
romantic  place,  —  a  Tyrolean  edition  of  Trenton  Falls  in 
New  York,  except  that  it  may  be  followed  more  easily,  and 
the  distant  surroundings  are  more  grand. 

This  beautiful  Beruina  Brook,  as  it  is  called,  we  followed 
lip  to  the  road  or  Bernina  Pass,  enjoying  the  numerous  cas- 
cades, windings,  and  glorious  waterfalls.  Descending,  we 
resumed  our  foot-path  once  more,  meeting  and  crossing  the 
water  from  the  glacier  towards  which  we  were  advancing. 

Here  it  was  at  last. 

AYe  come  first  to  a  broad  expanse  of  loose  rocks,  stones, 
and  rocky  shingle,  in  the  centre  of  which  rushed  along  the 
melted,  bluish-gray  glacier  water  from  the  great  mass  that 
had  crept  slowlj'-  forward  to  the  valley.  We  picked  our 
way  up  to  its  very  base,  a  great  wall  of  a  mixture  of  ice 
and  sand,  gravel  and  stones,  sixty  feet  high  :  the  chill  of 
its  shade  was  sensibly  felt  after  the  heat  of  our  pedestrian 
excursion.  The  dirty  gray  of  the  exterior  of  a  large  por- 
tion of  the  end  of  glacier  which  may  be  approached  thus,  is 
unlike  its  unsoiled  purity  thousands  of  feet  above.  But,  ap- 
proaching to  the  point  from  which  poured  forth  the  melted 
torrent  that  went  forward  as  a  contribution  to  the  river  Inn, 
we  could  see  within  the  well-known  caverns  of  clear  blue, 
pitiless  ice,  seamed  with  clean  cuts  and  fractures,  bluish 
green  as  bottle-glass,   and  chill  as  the  frozen  ocean. 

By  the  side-path  we  climbed  up,  and  went  far  enough  to 


EEST    AND    REFRESHMENT.  363 

say  that  we  liad  stood  upon  the  Morteratsch  glacier,  and 
had  pelted  one  another  with  snowballs  gathered  at  its  verge 
in  July  ;  but  the  fatigue  of  the  ascent,  as  well  as  the  great 
yawning  fissures  that  seamed  the  surface,  deterred  us  from 
any  excursion  upon  it,  especially  as  we  were  without  a  guide 
to  direct  our  footsteps. 

It  is  a  fact  that,  rapidly  as  one  may  come  down  hill  on 
these  Alpine  excursions,  he  is  pretty  apt  to  discover  that  he 
needs  some  strength  for  descent  as  well  as  ascending,  and 
also  that  in  most  cases  very  little  is  left.  Such  was  our 
case  in  returning  from  the  Morteratsch  glacier,  so  that,  after 
passing  the  rustic  bridge  of  Bernina  Brook  again,  and  reach- 
ing the  little  chalet  that  we  had  passed,  we  sank  down  in 
the  rustic  chairs  of  its  ground  with  a  sigh  of  exhaustion, 
thirsty   and   heated. 

The  tumblers  of  milk  brought  were  fresh,  rich,  and  in- 
vigorating ;  it  must  be  that  the  rich  herbage  that  I  have 
referred  to  at  this  season  in  this  region  imparts  a  corre- 
sponding richness  to  the  milk.  With  a  half  hour's  rest  and 
our  refreshment  here  at  the  chalet,  we  were  sufficiently  in- 
vigorated, and  soon  on  the  way  back  to  where  we  had  left 
einspdnner  and  driver  some  hours  before.  The  latter,  who 
was  comfortably  snoring  beneath  his  vehicle,  was -roused, 
and  his  horse  was  again  harnessed,  and  we  rattled  back 
through  Pontreseina,  on  for  four  miles,  and  up  the  wooded 
height  to  our  little  hotel  at  St.  Moritz,  in  season  for  the  table 
cVhole  dinner,  at  5  p.  m. 

From  St.  Moritz  to  Coire,  where  we  desired  to  take  to 
the  rail  again,  is  a  two  days'  posting  journey  over  wild  and 
romantic  mountain  passes.  But,  invigorated  by  a  week's 
rest  at  our  little  mountain  retreat,  we  were  ready  for  the 
journey.  Accordingly  the  inevitable  post-carriage  was  duly 
secured,  the  contract  drawn  up  by  the  English-speaking  as- 
sistant of  the  host  of  the  Pension  Suisse,  whose  use  of  the 
language  betrayed  an  occasional  refreshing  of  memory  at 
the  dictionary,  as  for  instance  when  he  informed  us  that  the 


364  THE    ALBULA    PASS. 

driver  had  gone  to  "  charge  "  the  luggage,  which  I  ascer- 
tained was  his  Engh'sh  for  "load"  the  luggage,  and  that  the 
carriage  would  go  "  down  stairs  safely,*'  meaning  down  hill 
easily,  a  sort  of  pigeon  English  probably  acquired  at  hotels. 

The  luggage  having  been  duly  "  charged,"  the  hotel-bill 
of  three  dollars  and  fifty  cents  per  day  each  was  paid,  —  a 
high  price  for  Switzerland,  but  we  were  at  an  expensive 
place  in  the  Canton  des  Grisons,  at  the  height  of  the  sea- 
son, which  is  very  short,  and  at  a  resort  that  is  considered 
very  fashionable.  These  details  having  been  settled,  the 
well-appointed  post-carriage,  with  its  Tyrolean  decorated 
harness,  and  dapple-gray  horses,  driven  by  Tyrolean  driver 
wearing  pointed  hat  decorated  with  flower  sprigs,  came  up 
to  the  door  with  the  usual  whip-crack  salute,  and,  as  is  cus- 
tomary, landlord,  landlady,  and  gentlemanly  English-speak- 
ing assistant  were  at  the  door  to  speed  the  parting  guests. 

The  white-aproned  host  had  learned  enough  French  to  say 
"  Bon  voyage,  llonsieur/'  the  fat  landlady  courtesied  and 
smiled,  the  English-speaking  waiter  raised  his  hat  and  said, 
"  A  pleasant  journey,  Madame  and  Monsieur,  good-by  I 
wish  you,"  the  driver  started  his  team,  and  we  cork-screwed 
up  through  the  little  zigzag  street  of  St.  Moritz  till  we  left 
it  behind  and  were  upon  the  high  road  in  the  fresh  morning 
flower-perfumed  air,  and  descended  the  slope  in  a  brisk  trot 
on  through  the  little  villages  of  Cresta  and  Cellerina,  back 
to  Samaden,  and  on  to  a  place  called  Ponte,  turning  off  at 
which  we  entered  fairly  upon  the  Albula  Pass.  Now  we 
began  again  the  usual  series  of  Alpine  ascents,  the  air  pure 
and  bracing  ;  the  slopes  about  and  around  us  are  in  their 
beautiful  livery  of  green,  and  high,  high  above  rise  the  glit- 
tering snow  peaks. 

Up,  up,  still  up.  Now  we  pass  a  sighing  pine  forest, 
now  an  open  space  brilliant  with  Alp  roses  and  other  wild 
flowers,  finally  reaching  the  rocks  and  green  slopes  which 
are  above  the  trees,  which  now  have  diminished  to  bushes 
in  size.     As  we  near  the  summit  of  the  pass,  traversing  a 


SUMMIT    OF    THE    PASS.  365 

wild,  rocky,  barren  waste,  the  snow,  which  we  had  seen  far 
above  us,  began  to  appear  in  patches  upon  each  side  of  the 
road,  till  at  last,  when  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  pass, 
the  carriage  path  was  cut  through  a  snow  bank  three  or  four 
feet  deep,  although  it  was  the  fifteenth  day  of  July.  Tbe 
summit  is  desolation  itself,  and  we  wind  through  a  perfect 
quarry  of  rugged,  ragged,  gray,  storm-shattered  rocks,  and 
after  passing  these,  the  mountain  sides  are  seen  gashed  with 
the  avalanches  of  spring,  which  frequently  damage  the  road- 
way. 

Notwithstanding  the  snow  in  this  portion  of  the  pass,  the 
southerly  slopes  in  the  vicinity  appear  for  a  few  months  to 
be  a  rich  pasturing  ground  for  herds  which  are  driven  up 
here  to  graze,  the  herdsmen  living  in  rude  hovels  during  the 
three  months  they  are  here.  We  saw  hundreds  of  cattle 
feeding  on  the  rich  herbage,  for  the  season  for  butter  and 
cheese  making  was  now  at  hand,  and  the  tinkling  of  many 
bells  on  the  lower  hillsides  was  melodious  as  a  campanalogian 
concert. 

The  verdure  seemed  to  spring  out  of  the  mountain  side 
directly  the  snow  had  melted  and  left  it,  and  it  seemed 
singular  to  see  wild  pansies  blooming  at  one  side  of  the 
road  and  a  snow  bank  heaped  up  on  the  other,  both  scarcely 
thirty  feet  apart.  Besides  the  cattle  we  observed  a  species 
of  great,  gaunt,  reddish-brown,  long-legged  swine  scattered 
about  on  the  slopes,  seeming  not  to  thrive  so  well  as  the 
former,  and  from  their  uncanny  appearance  causing  the 
spectator  to  mentally  resolve  never  to  taste  pork  in  the 
Tyrol. 

Grand  as  ever  is  the  glorious  mountain  scenery,  a  new 
phase  of  that  often  described  by  the  author,  but  ever  novel, 
never  tiresome,  always  grand  and  magnificent.  The  air  was 
thin  and  bracing  at  the  summit  of  the  pass,  and  made  the 
nerves  of  my  face  thrill  as  with  neuralgia  ;  but  though  we 
were  up  some  seven  thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level,  ambi- 
tious youths,  "  'mid  snow  and  ice,"  could  with  propriety  shout 


366  FROM    MOUNTAIN    TO    VALLEY. 

"  Excelsior,"  for  far  above  us,  five  thousand  feet  into  the 
air,  rose  lofty  peaks  of  barren  rock,  or  enveloped  in  their 
robes  of  snow  which  sparkled  like  frosted  silver  in  the  sun- 
light. 

Leaving  the  summit,  we  descended  through  grand  notches 
and  gorges  by  tremendous  zigzags,  often  cut  through  solid 
rock,  and  protected  towards  the  valley  side  by  stone  walls, 
till  the  scene  of  snow  and  ice,  and  the  barren,  stony  wilder- 
ness of  the  summit,  gave  place  to  the  beautiful  view  of  the 
whole  of  the  charming  valley  of  the  Hinter-Rliein,  rich  in 
green  fields,  picturesque  chalets,  graceful  slopes,  and  rush- 
ing waterfalls.  We  halt  en  route  to  dine  at  Bergen,  a  little 
town  in  a  green  arena  like  valley,  surrounded  by  lofty  snow- 
clad  mountains. 

After  leaving  here,  we  whirled  round  through  the  great 
ravine  of  the  Bergen-Stein.  This  is  a  narrow  wooded 
ravine,  with  a  road  blasted  out  of  the  face  of  the  precipice, 
and  which  runs  along  high  above  the  river  Albula,  which 
seems  to  have  cut  or  worn  itself  a  passage  six  or  seven  hun- 
dred feet  below  us.  At  times,  in  the  turn  of  the  road,  we 
could  by  leaning  over  the  cliif  catch  a  sight  of  the  angry 
torrent,  foaming  and  boiling  over  its  jagged  bed  of  rocks, 
hundreds  of  feet  beneath  us  ;  and  again  we  could  see 
naught  but  the  profound  chasm,  which  our  roadway  so  far 
overhung  as  to  conceal  from  view  the  torrent  which  we 
heard  roaring  far  below. 

It  chanced  that  we  were  fortunate  in  the  time  of  our  de- 
parture, bei)]g  a  day  behind  a  thunder-storm  that  had  cleared 
the  air  and  swollen  the  streams,  and  also  sent  down  some 
avalanches  of  earth  and  stone.  One  from  a  mountain  side 
a  mile  off  had  delivered  a  contribution  of  three  feet  in  thick- 
ness across  the  road,  which  laborers  had  but  just  shovelled 
away  ere  we  reached  the  spot.  We  have  left  the  wild  chasm 
and  ravine-like  passage  of  the  Bergen-Stein  behind,  pass 
through  a  little  village  called  Bad  Alvenue,  where  English 
and   other  invalids   come   to   make  use   of  the   sulphurous 


THE    SCHTN    PASS.  367 

springs,  and  still  descending  by  the  river-side,  run  into  the 
picturesquely  situated  village  of  Tiefenkasten,  with  its  pretty 
cascade  tumbling  into  the  Albula  River,  and  its  old  ruined 
castles  in  the  distance  on  tlie  hillsides,  above  its  resting- 
place  in  the   hollow  of  the  hills. 

Coming  down  from  the  wild  Bergen-Stein  ravine,  we  had 
one  of  those  novel  and  interesting  sights  that  are  often  wit- 
nessed in  the  Alps,  from  the  effects  of  atmosphere,  clouds, 
or  various  changes  of  weather  in  these  lofty  altitudes.  This 
was  what  is  popularly  known  as  a  sun-shower,  a  light  shim- 
mering rain  falling,  and  the  sun  shining  brightly  at  the  same 
time.  Looking  through  this,  the  green  hillsides  and  fields 
of  the  valley,  populated  with  men  and  women  who  were 
scraml)ling  to  get  their  hay  in,  had  an  indescribably  beauti- 
ful appearance  ;  but,  as  we  descended  and  rode  out  of  the 
shower,  the  drivor  halted  and  called  to  us  to  look  back, 
when,  lo  !  the  whole  great  gorge  above  us  was  spanned  by 
an  immense  rainbow,  one  end  resting  on  the  barren  moun- 
tain, and  the  other  upon  the  opposite  side  among  the  larch 
trees,  a  gorgeous  sight. 

On  we  go,  and  about  two  hours  after  leaving  Tiefenkasten 
are  in  the  beautiful  Schyn  Pass  (pronounced  Shin  Pass),  an 
unromantic  name  for  a  most  romantic  pass,  with  lofty  preci- 
pices, profound  abysses,  and  splendid  specimens  of  engineer- 
ing skill  throughout  its  whole  length, — reminding  one  very 
much  of  the  Via  Mala  in  general  characteristics.  Some  of 
the  road  is  cut  through  a  species  of  black  slaty  rock,  and 
portions  of  it  are  damaged  frequently  by  the  storms  of  winter. 
We  passed  through  one  gallery  and  over  one  bridge  by  the 
side  of  an  abyss  which  was  entirely  without  guards,  all  hav- 
ing been  washed  awaj'  the  previous  winter  with  a  portion 
of  the  roadway,  which  was  supported  by  masonry ;  this  latter 
had  been  replaced  and  strengthened,  and  a  fresh  barrier  was 
to  be  erected. 

After  an  enjoyable  ride  through  this  pass,  we  reached  in 
the  afternoon  Thusis,  the  gate  as  it  is  called  of  the  Via  Mala 


368  GATE    OF    THE    VIA    MALA. 

Pass,  where  we  halted  for  the  iii^ht,  and  after  a  good  night's 
rest,  despite  a  furious  thunder-storm,  we  took  a  morning 
walk  to  enjoy  the  fresh  atmosphere  and  romantic  scenery 
before  starting  again  on  our  journey.  At  a  bridge  that  runs 
across  the  river  Rhine  at  this  point,  there  is  a  beautiful  view 
of  the  valley. 

The  river  Nolla,  which  flows  into  the  Rhine  at  Thusis,  has 
a  most  singular  appearance.  Standing  on  the  Nolla  Bridge, 
the  river,  which  came  rushing  down  over  shelving  layers  of 
black,  slate-looking  rock,  appeared  black  as  ink,  and  as  it 
flows  into  the  Rhine,  discolors  that  stream  for  quite  a  dis- 
tance with  its  sable  hue.  This  color  is  caused  by  the  con- 
tinuous washing  of  the  porous  slate  banks  of  the  river, 
converting  them  into  a  black  paste,  till  the  whole  stream 
has  the  hue  above  described.  A  glorious  view  we  took  in 
on  the  Nolla  Bridge,  which  afforded  us  a  panoramic  picture 
of  a  portion  of  the  valley  of  the  Rhine,  with  its  barrier  of 
lofty  mountains.  A  huge  gorge  was  seen  with  the  river 
Rhine  running  through  it  on  one  hand,  and  on  the  other 
the  rushing  Nolla  sending  down  its  inky  tributary  stream. 
High  over  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  some  six  hundred  feet 
above  the  river,  are  the  ruins  of  the  most  ancient  castle  in 
Switzerland,  Hoch-Realt,  said  to  have  been  founded  by 
Raetus,  leader  of  the  Etruscans,  b,  c.  587. 

Leaving  the  bridge,  we  took  a  walk  upon  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Via  Mala  Pass,  whose  huge  Avails  rise  perpen- 
dicularly over  twelve  hundred  feet  on  either  side.  The 
roadway  is  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  and  far  below  it  the  river 
runs  roaring  through  the  deep  and  narrow  gorge. 

Having  previously  made  the  passage  of  the  whole  pass, 
we  walked  but  a  short  distance  —  say  about  a  mile  and  a 
half — to  the  first  great  gallery,  two  hundred  feet  in  length, 
that  penetrates  the  solid  rock.  But  this  is  one  of  the  finest 
portions  of  the  pass,  and  tourists  halting  at  Thusis,  if  not 
going  over  it,  should  make  at  least  this  pedestrian  excursion 
of  two  or  three  miles,  and  they  will  be  well  repaid  by  the 
wild  and  grand  scenery  of  this  gloomy  defile. 


THE    SPLUGEN   ROAD.  369 

After  refreshing-  our  memories  of  a  former  visit  to  the 
Via  Mala  by  this  walk  into  its  rocky  fastnesses,  and  our- 
selves by  an  excellent  breakfast,  we  were  once  more  behind 
the  post-horses,  and  soon  left  Thusis  behind  us  as  we  dashed 
out  on  the  Splugen  road,  passing  through  beautiful  valleys 
with  huge  mountain  barriers  on  each  side,  and  various  vil- 
lages, till  we  came  in  sight  of  Reichenau,  with  the  snow- 
clad  Brigelser  Horn  towering  above  it.  At  this  village 
there  was  pointed  out  to  us  the  chateau  in  which  Louis 
Philippe  sought  refuge  in  1193.  He  was  then  Due  de  Char- 
tres,  and  arrived  here  on  foot,  stick  in  hand,  and  lived  at 
the  place  for  nearly  a  year  as  an  usher  in  a  school,  giving 
lessons  in  French  and  mathematics,  his  secret  known  only 
to  one  person,  —  the  head  master  of  the  school,  —  to  whom 
he  brought  a  letter  of  introduction,  and  during  his  exile 
here  he  heard  of  his  father's  death  on  the  scaffold  and  his 
mother's  banishment. 

We  cross  the  Rhine  over  a  long  single-span  bridge,  two 
hundred  and  thirty-seven  feet  in  length,  high  above  the 
river,  and  come  into  the  prettily  situated  and  pretty  Ro- 
mansch  village  of  Ems,  with  its  ruined  castle,  and  leaving 
it  behind,  drive  on  out  into  the  open  country,  passing 
within  a  short  distance  of  a  village  called  Felsburg,  that  is 
so  near  to  the  mountain  side  as  to  be  in  constant  danger 
from  avalanches.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  to  have  had  sev- 
eral warnings,  as  large  ledges  of  rock  and  soil  have  slipped 
from  the  hill-side  close  at  one  end  of  the  village,  rushing 
half-way  across  the  valley,  —  a  sufficient  bulk  to  overwhelm 
a  large  portion  of  the  village,  had  it  fallen  there.  We  could 
see  the  great  track  of  the  earth  and  soil  where  the  slide  had 
taken  place,  and  what  remained  above  the  village  looked  of 
treacherous  and  uncertain  tenure.  Some  of  the  inhabitants 
have  already  taken  the  alarm  and  moved  away,  but  a  large 
portion  of  them  remain,  perhaps  to  experience  the  fate  of 
those  at  Goldau. 

We  drew  np  at  the  Steiubock  Inn  in  Coire  at  two  p.  m., 
24 


370  CLOSE    EXAMINATION    OF    CURIOUS    RELICS. 

parted  with  our  post-carriage  previous  to  taking  the  railway 
one  next  day,  but  employed  the  afternoon  in  visiting  the 
upper  part  of  the  town  or  eminence  upon  which  is  situated 
the  Episcopal  Palace,  and  which  commands  a  beautiful  view 
of  the  surrounding  country,  the  river  Plessur,  on  which 
Coire  is  situated,  and  which  flows  into  the  Rhino,  and  the 
Rhine  itself.  We  did  not  go  into  the  palace,  but  accepted 
the  services,  proffered  in  pantomime,  of  a  little  Swiss  boy 
to  pilot  us  up  the  steep  declivity  to  the  Cathedral  of  St. 
Lucius,  an  edifice  built  in  the  eighth  century,  with  curious 
old  columns,  resting  on  lions,  and  bearing  sculptured  repre- 
sentations of  the  Apostles  in  pairs,  and  containing  a  high 
altar  most  beautifully  carved,  and  curious  stalls  and  taber- 
nacle, all  made  in  the  year  1491  ;  also  two  or  three  noted 
pictures,  one  by  Rubens  and  another  by  Ilolbein,  and  a 
curious  gold  and  silver  crucifix  upon  another  altar,  made 
during  the  twelfth  century,  the  sarcophagi  of  some  old 
counts  and  bishops,  and  antiquities  which  render  the  church 
a  most  interesting  place  to  visit. 

The  Treasury,  or  Sacristy,  of  the  church  was  in  charge  of 
a  good-natured  old  priest,  who  let  me  have  pretty  much  my 
own  way  among  the  rich  church  plate  of  antique  workman- 
ship of  the  fourteenth  century,  the  relics,  shrines,  and  other 
curiosities,  A  piece  of  the  oldest  silk  in  Europe,  said  to 
have  been  made  in  513,  was  carefully  preserved  in  a  glass 
case;  then  there  were  old  documents  of  King  Otho,  888; 
of  Ludwig,  son  of  Charlemagne,  836  ;  Charlemagne,  784 ; 
and  others  of  the  time  of  849,  831,  &c.  The  bones  of  St. 
Lucius,  and  skulls  of  other  old  saints,  whose  eyeless  sock- 
ets were  rimmed  with  emeralds  and  rubies,  the  custodian 
permitted  me  to  handle  at  will,  and  also  to  closely  examine 
the  glass  frame  between  which  were  the  drops  of  blood  of 
some  other  saints,  nails  from  the  true  cross,  and  other  won- 
ders, which,  having  now  become  somewhat  of  a  seasoned 
traveller,  I  neglected  to  make  anything  more  than  a  gen- 
eral memoranda  of  in  my  note-book,  knowing  that  all  well- 
regulated  cathedrals  possess  them. 


ARRIVAL    AT    PRAGUE.  371 

But  some  of  the  most  valuable  articles  in  the  treasury 
consisted  of  the  large  wardrobe  of  superb  priestly  vest- 
ments, the  most  ancient  being  those  made  in  1491  ;  then 
followed  those  made  in  1500,  1600,  &c.,  down  to  our  own 
time,  enough  to  clothe  fifty  bishops.  They  were  of  the 
most  elegant  silk,  velvet,  and  other  stuffs  I  ever  looked 
upon,  loaded  with  the  most  magnificent  gold  embroidery, 
and  heavy  with  bullion.  One  was  shown  me,  of  which  the 
outer  robe  alone  was  valued  at  twenty-five  thousand  dollars, 
so  rich  was  it  in  gold  trimming  and  costly  embroidery.  In 
fact,  the  wondrous  richness  and  beauty  of  these  church 
vestments  stowed  away  here  in  a  Swiss  cathedral  was 
amazing.  But  Coire,  it  is  recorded,  is  the  oldest  bishopric 
in  Switzerland. 

There  is  little  else  in  Coire  to  interest  the  visitor. 

From  here  we  took  rail  for  Munich,  thence  to  Vienna, 
both  of  which  having  been  referred  to  at  length  in  a  former 
volume  ("  Over  the  Ocean  "),  a  description  is  omitted  here. 

How  vexed  we  were,  on  arriving  at  Prague  one  hot  sum- 
mer's evening,  to  find  no  hotel  omnibuses  of  any  kind  in 
waiting  at  the  railway  station,  —  nothing  but  a  party  of 
garlic-smelling  coachmen  bawling  in  a  jargon  we  could  not 
understand.  There  were  seven  of  us,  American  and  Eng- 
lish, in  the  party,  and  we  had  concluded  to  stay  over  a  day 
or  two  on  our  route  to  Dresden,  and  see  what  sights  we 
might  in  that  time ;  and  out  of  the  party  we  managed  to  get 
together  enough  of  the  proper  language  to  engage  coach- 
men to  take  us  to  a  hotel.  The  first  two  houses  tried 
were  full ;  in  the  next  we  filled  all  the  rooms  remaining,  and 
were  congratulating  ourselves,  on  assembling  in  the  salle  a 
manger,  to  find  on  the  bills-of-fare  handed  us  as  we  sat 
down  to  supper,  a  line  stating  that  the  proprietor,  having 
resided  in  New  York,  particularly  recommended  himself  to 
Americans  and  foreigners. 

In  whatever  capacity  he  had  served  in  America,  it  could 
not  have  been  in  hotel-keeping,  as  we  found  to  our  sorrow ; 


372  A    HURRIED    VISIT. 

for  the  cuisine  was  barely  tolerable,  the  sleeping-rooms  vile, 
aud  the  beds  hard  and  unconitortable ;  so  that,  after  a  sleep- 
loss  night  and  bad  breakfast,  it  was  unanimously  voted  not 
to  stay  another  night  in  Prague,  but  to  take  the  first  train, 
which  left  in  a  few  hours,  so  that  our  sight-seeing  was  lim- 
ited to  a  very  brief  space  of  time,  which  was  devoted  to  a 
ride  around  through  some  of  the  principal  parts'of  the 
AUstadt  or  old  part  of  the  city,  which  stretches  along  the 
margin  of  the  river  and  abounds  in  crooked  streets,  shops, 
and  buildings  black  with  dirt,  age,  and  antiquity  ;  and,  as 
we  glanced  upwards,  we  observed  that  Prague  seems  to  be 
built  upon  the  sides  of  slopes  or  successive  eminences, 
rising  one  above  the  other,  crowned  by  the  imposing  palace 
or  castle  of  the  Bohemian  kings,  known  as  the  Hradschin, 
upon  the  crest  of  a  hill  which  overtops  all  the  rest. 

Of  course  we  must  visit  that  point ;  so  we  soon  found 
our  carriage  whirling  over  a  long  and  massive  bridge,  built 
in  1503,  and  spanning  the  river  Moldau,  which  divides  the 
old  and  new  parts  of  the  city,  Altstadt  and  Neustadt,  on 
one  bank,  from  the  Kieinseite  (small  side)  and  Hradschin  on 
the  other. 

All  along  the  battlements  of  this  bridge  stood  colossal 
figures  of  various  saints,  —  distressing-looking  objects  in 
ecclesiastical  costume.  There  were  twenty-eight  of  them 
in  all,  and  the  most  celebrated  is  one  in  bronze  with  a  five- 
pointed  cross  above  him,  with  a  metallic  star  at  each  point 
of  the  cross.  We  were  halted  to  look  at  this,  as  it  repre- 
sents St.  John  Ncpomucenus,  and  was  erected  in  1683  in 
memory  of  John  something  or  other,  whom  the  king  threw 
over  the  bridge  into  the  river  at  this  point  because  the  said 
John  refused  to  disclose  to  him  the  confession  made  by  the 
queen  to  him,  which  the  king  was  exceedingly  anxious  to 
get  hold  of.  John  was  drowned  without  betraying  his 
secret,  but  such  a  chance  for  a  Papal  miracle  was  not  to  be 
allowed  to  pass,  and  so  five  stars  are  said  to  have  hovered 
over  the  spot  where  the  body  of  the  drowned  priest  lay, 


PANORAMIC    VIEW    OF    PRAGUE.  O  (  O 

until  attention  was  attracted  and  he  was  drawn  from  the 
water  and  canonized  as  a  saint,  and  his  body  put  in  a  mag- 
nificent shrine  in  the  Cathedral.  We  only  had  time  to  ride 
to  a  point  near  the  new  iron  suspension  bridge,  which  is 
erected  a  short  distance  above  here.  Between  these  two 
bridges  the  bank  of  the  river  has  been  laid  out  as  a  hand- 
some promenade,  aflf'ording  a  beautiful  water  view,  and  a 
handsome  Gothic  open  monument  stands  there,  in  wliich, 
beneath  the  wrought  stone  canopy,  is  a  bronze  equestrian 
statue  of  the  former  Emperor  Francis  of  Germany,  from 
wliieh  the  promenade  takes  its  name,  Francis,  or,  as  they 
call  it,  Franzens  Quai.  The  base  of  the  monument  is  sur- 
rounded by  allegorical  figures,  and  the  vicinity  appears  to 
be  a  very  pleasant  and  attractive  resort. 

I  was  vexed  indeed,  when  I  came  to  consult  my  guide- 
book, and  found  what  were  the  riches  and  curiosities  of  the 
Cathedral,  and  to  reflect  upon  the  historic  associations  of 
the  city  and  its  points  of  interest,  which  might  at  least 
have  occupied  me  two  days,  that  I  had  thrown  aside  the 
opportunity  and  had  but  an  hour  or  so  of  rapid  ride,  for  our 
trunks  had  been  sent  to  the  railway  station,  and  tickets 
taken,  after  coming  to  the  hasty  decision  to  leave.  Lastly 
we  rode  up  to  the  Hradschin.  Talk  of  riding  up  1  I  think 
I  never  rode  up  so  steep  a  street  before  ;  it  was  almost  at 
an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  —  and  on  arrival  at  the  castle 
we  had  barely  time  to  look  hastily  through  a  room  or  two, 
containing  nothing  extraordinarily  attractive,  and  to  survey 
the  beautiful  panoramic  view  of  river,  city,  and  country 
from  its  battlements,  ere  the  enemy.  Time,  summoned  us  to 
descend  in  order  to  reach  the  station  in  season  for  the  train. 


374  DRESDEN". 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

The  Hotel  Bellevue,  in  Dresden,  is  very  pleasantly  sit- 
uated, and,  thanks  to  advance  despatches,  we  had  delightful 
apartments,  with  windows  looking  out  upon  the  River  Elbe, 
up  and  down  which  wont  the  little  steamboats,  —  for  it  was 
the  summer  season,  —  and  out  to  the  floating  bath-houses, 
moored  mid-stream,  continually  went  the  row-boats  with 
passengers. 

In  full  view  also  was  the  noble  stone  bridge  across  the 
Elbe,  connecting  the  old  with  the  new  city.  A  magnificent 
structure  it  is,  fourteen  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  length, 
and  thirty-six  feet  in  width,  and  has  foot-pavement  and  iron 
balustrade  on  each  side:  It  rests  on  sixteen  arches,  and  is 
said  to  be  one  of  the  finest  bridges  in  Germany.  A  friend 
called  our  attention  to  the  piers  of  this  bridge,  the  project- 
ing portions  of  which,  built  in  the  usual  form  to  resist  ice 
or  freshets,  were  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  bridge,  —  that 
is,  point  down  with  the  flow  of  the  tide,  instead  of  against 
it.  What  may  be  the  reason  of  this  is  a  problem,  unless 
the  river  ran  in  the  opposite  direction  when  the  builders  of 
1727  restored  the  work  of  tlie  old  artisans  of  the  twelfth 
century. 

Our  windows  overlook  the  pleasant  little  garden  at  the 
rear  of  the  hotel,  fragrant  with  flowers  and  fresh  with  a 
plashing  fountain  ;  and  we  descend,  walk  across  it,  and  take 
breakfast  on  a  covered  balcony  almost  overhanging  the 
river,  commanding  a  pleasant  water-view,  and  a  long  beer- 
garden  upon  the  banks  a  little  distance  further  along,  which 
is  gay  in  colored  lights  in  the  evening.  At  the  end  of  the 
great  bridge,  over  which  we  can  see  the  crowds  continually 
passing  and  repassing,  rises  the  lofty  spire,  three  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  above  the  pavement  of  the  Frauenkirche,  or 


PROTECTION  OF  ART  TREASURES.  375 

Church  of  our  Lady,  with  its  dome  of  stone,  upon  which 
the  shot  and  shell  of  Frederick  the  Great  rebounded  harm- 
lessly in  his  siege  of  the  city  in  1760.  And  this  reminds  me 
of  the  wondrous  preservation  of  the  crowning-  attraction  of 
the  city,  the  Dresden  Gallery. 

Founded  in  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  it  has  re- 
mained unharmed  and  uninjured  amid  the  innumerable  con- 
flicts that  have  since  convulsed  Germany,  and  often  rolled 
almost  up  to  its  very  portals.  When  Frederick  the  Great 
bombarded  the  city,  and  even  battered  down  churches,  he 
forbade  the  artillery  to  fire  upon  the  Picture  Gallery  ;  and 
Napoleon  is  said  to  have  also  been  so  considerate,  that 
none  of  the  pictures  ever  made  the  journey  to  Paris  by 
"his   order. 

From  our  perch  over  the  river  we  look,  on  the  other 
hand,  about  half  a  mile  down  the  Elbe  to  the  beautiful  rail- 
road bridge,  a  structure  with  twelve  graceful  arches,  each 
of  one  hundred  feet  span,  its  whole  length  being  about 
fifteen  hundred  'feet.  Our  first  walk  was  over  the  old 
bridge,  which  is  used  for  purposes  of  traffic,  and  it  is  a 
broad,  spacious,  and  elegant  causeway.  One  event  in  its 
history  is  that  General  Davoust  blew  up  two  of  its  arches 
in  1813  to  cover  his  retreat. 

After  passing  the  bridge  we  soon  came  to  a  large  open 
square,  or  market-place,  in  this  Neustadt,  as  it  is  called,  or 
new  part  of  the  city,  and  in  the  centre  is  a  copper  statue  of 
old  Augustus  the  Strong,  on  horseback,  to  w?iom  be  all  honor 
for  his  cherishing,  purchasing,  and  protecting  works  of  art, 
the  foundation  of  the  grand  collections  that  to-day  make 
Dresden  so  celebrated  in  the  world  of  art. 

Not  far  from  here  is  the  building  known  as  the  Japanese 
Palace,  bought  by  Augustus  as  a  depository  for  various  art 
collections,  and  which  was  one  of  our  first  sights  in  Dres- 
den. It  now  contains  a  fine  numismatic  collection,  a  hall  of 
antiquities,  and  a  magnificent  collection  of  porcelain.  The 
antiquities,  which  are  principally  Roman  sculptures  and  re- 


376  THE   JAPANESE    PALACE. 

mains  dating'  from  the  time  of  the  empire,  are  of  rather  a 
tame  and  uninteresting'  cliaracter  after  one  has  visited  the 
great  galleries  of  the  Vatican  ;  in  fact,  there  are  but  few 
pieces  of  remarkable  or  striking  execution  in  the  collection. 

Modern  busts  such  as  those  of  Marshal  Saxe,  Cardinal 
Eichelieu,  and  Gustavus  Adolphus,  though  well  executed,  the 
tourist  who  has  become  familiar  with  sculpture  galleries  will 
pass  by  hastily.  There  was  a  beautiful  group  of  girls  and 
women,  found  in  Herculaneum  in  HIS,  in  perfect  preserva- 
tion, which  halted  us  at  once  to  admire  their  beauty  ;  also  a 
fine  marble  figure  of  Venus,  an  athlete,  a  sarcophagus  with 
bacchanalian  procession  on  it,  a  statue  in  gray  marble  of  a 
pugilist,  Assyrian  bas-reliefs  from  J^ineveh,  lions  cut  from 
Egyptian  granite,  Roman  vases,  and  German  antiquities. 

The  Royal  Library,  which  contains  over  half  a  million 
volumes,  occupies  the  entire  upper  part  of  the  building,  and 
is  particularly  rich  in  manuscripts  and  maps,  containing  no 
less  than  20,500  of  the  latter,  we  were  informed.  There  is 
in  the  grand  or  principal  hall  a  great  variety  of  curiosities 
and  literary  antiquities,  over  which  we  lingered  with  much 
interest.  Beneath  a  glass  case  lay  curious  Runic  calendars, 
written  on  boxwood,  and  made  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth 
centuries ;  manuscripts  in  the  handwriting  of  Luther  and 
Melancthon  ;  a  tournament  book  of  King  Rene,  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  which  was  once  the  property  of  Charles  the 
Bold.  Albrecht  Dilrer's  work  on  the  proportions  of  the 
human  figure,  with  his  own  original  illustrations  of  the  sub- 
ject ;  volumes  containing  numerous  beautiful  miniatures 
(one  presented  over  fifty  of  noted  men  of  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries,  elegantly  painted,  the  colors  fresh  as  if 
laid  on  yesterday)  ;  a  curious  Mexican  hieroglyphic  docu- 
ment twelve  feet  long  ;  elegantly  executed  illuminated 
missals  and  books  on  parchment,  the  letters  and  illumina- 
tion as  beautiful  as  the  best  press-work  of  to-day,  and  mon- 
uments of  the  artistic  skill  and  patience  of  the  sandalled 
brotherhood  that   produced  them    hundreds   of  years  ago  ; 


MUSEUM    OF    PORCELAIN.  377 

and  besides  all  these,  many  specimens  of  the  first  attempts 
at  typography  and  engraving. 

But  the  collection  in  the  Japanese  Palace,  which  seems 
most  to  excite  the  admiration,  is  the  magnificent  collection 
of  porcelain  of  East  Indian,  Dresden,  Japanese,  Chinese, 
French,  and  other  manufactures,  which  is  contained  in 
the  series  of  vaulted  rooms  in  the  basement  story  of  the 
building,  which  are  not  very  well  lighted  or  adapted  for 
the  display.  If  a  catalogue  could  have  been  procured, 
or  the  heavy,  dull  custodian  have  spoken  French,  or  any- 
thing but  German,  we  might  have  more  thoroughly  enjoyed 
this  almost  endless  collection,  which  has  been  in  process  of 
accumulation  for  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  years.  Here 
were  the  specimens  of  the  celebrated  Dresden  work,  from 
the  first  attempts  in  1109  down  to  the  elegant  workmanship 
of  the  present  day  ;  a  bewildering  series  of  all  the  different 
Chinese  varieties,  some  of  the  old  vases  and  bowls  made  in 
the  time  of  Confucius,  and  others  of  the  most  fantastic  and 
ugly  patterns  conceivable  ;  blue  china  and  curious  antique 
Indian  china  that  would  make  a  collector  crazy  with  delight ; 
and  of  the  small  plates,  bowls,  and  cups  of  Chinese  and 
Japanese  workmanship,  many  of  surprising  richness  and 
beauty. 

One  could  trace  the  improvement  made  in  the  manufac- 
ture of  some  of  these  collections,  from  rude  attempts  to 
elegant  productions,  though  it  must  be  confessed  that  the 
art  seemed  to  have  been  pretty  thoroughly  understood  by 
those  whom  we  are  accustomed  to  think  semi-barbarous 
nations  long  before  the  more  civilized.  And  even  now,  in 
strength  of  material,  delicacy  of  hue,  and  novelty  and 
originality  of  design,  they  in  many  respects  excel. 

After  leaving  this  interesting  collection,  we  drove  to  a 
neighboring  street  to  look  at  the  exterior  of  the  house  where 
Schiller  resided  from  1784  to  1786,  and  also  another  in 
which  Korner,  the  poet,  was  born  (1769).  Both  houses  are 
indicated  by  marble  tablets  let  into  the  walls,  bearing  in- 


STB  STREETS    IN   DRESDEN. 

scriptions,  and  both  are  in  a  street  named  Korner-Strasse 
(or  street),  after  the  soldier-poet,  whom  the  Germans  seem 
to  regard  with  sacred  admiration. 

Many  American  readers,  not  familiar  with  German  litera- 
ture, but  who  used  John  Pierpont's  National  Reader  and 
American  First  Class  Book  in  their  youthful  days  at  school, 
will  remember  extracts  from  the  poet's  "  Lyre  and  Sword," 
such  as  the  "  Sword  Song,"  the  "  Battle  Ilj'mn  of  the 
German  Landsturm,"  and  others.  His  most  popular  battle- 
songs  were  wiitten  in  camp,  while  he  was  in  the  army 
fighting  against  Napoleon.  As  a  soldier,  he  displayed 
great  bravery,  and  was  killed  in  battle,  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
four,  in  a  contest  near  Rosenberg,  iu  1813,  Wo  afterwards 
saw,  in  the  Georges-Platz,  a  handsome  bronze  statue  of  the 
soldier-poet.  He  was  represented  standing,  draped  in  his 
military  cloak,  with  his  left  hand  pressing  his  sword  to  his 
breast,  while  his  right  grasps  a  scroll  of  poems. 

Coming  back  over  the  old  bridge,  we  see  directly  before, 
in  the  Altstadt  (old  city),  the  Royal  Palace  and  Roman 
Catholic  Court  Church,  for  the  court  is  Roman  Catholic, 
though  the  people  are  not  so,  as  there  are  said  to  be  not 
over  eight  thousand  Romanists  in  the  city,  in  which  Protes- 
tantism flourishes  sturdily,  and  will,  as  of  old.  Speaking  of 
this  Court  Church,  however,  the  music  on  Sundays  is  mag- 
nificent, and  is  one  of  the  prime  attractions  to  foreign 
tourists  who  are  in  the  city  on  that  day. 

Fronting  us,  also  in  the  Altstadt,  as  we  recross  the  bridge, 
are  the  Museum,  or  Zwinger,  which  contains  the  celebrated 
Dresden  Gallery  ;  and,  just  at  the  left,  after  leaving  the 
bridge,  we  came  to  the  broad  and  beautifully  laid-out  prom- 
enade above  the  banks  of  the  river,  known  as  the  Bruhl 
Terrace.  This  terrace  runs  along  for  about  one-third  of  a 
mile,  and  you  mount  to  it  from  the  street  square  by  a  very 
broad  and  elegant  flight  of  steps.  Upon  these  steps  are 
four  splendid  groups  of  statuary,  cut  from  sandstone,  repre- 
senting Day,  Night,  Morning,  and  Evening.     This  beautiful 


THE  DRESDEN  GALLERY.  379 

promenade,  which  is  shaded  with  trees,  is  a  favorite  public 
resort,  and  crowded  on  pleasant  evenings.  At  the  farther 
end  of  it  is  one  of  the  best  beer  gardens  and  restaurants  in 
Dresden,  the  Belvedere,  where  you  may  enjoy  the  music  of 
a  full  band  for  an  admission  fee  of  ten  cents,  and  a  large 
glass  of  beer  for  half  that  amount. 

The  Briihl  Terrace  reminds  me  of  the  illustrious  Henri  do 
Briihl,  the  favorite  and  all-powerful  prime  minister  of 
Augustus  III.  of  Saxony  from  1733  to  1763  ;  for  his  name, 
and  that  of  his  illustrious  master  are  connected  with  the 
foundation  of  the  greatness  of  that  chief  attraction  of  Dres- 
den, the  peerless  Dresden  Gallery.  I  approach  this  grand 
collection  of  art  in  these  pages  almost  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling, knowing  that  a  mere  tourist's  sketch  of  this  superb 
collection  of  masterpieces  must  necessarily  be  weak  and  in- 
adequate in  its  endeavor  to  conve}'  to  the  reader  anything 
like  a  correct  idea  of  their  value  and  beauty  as  works  of  art. 

There  are  collected,  .in  this  grand  gallery,  nearly  three 
thousand  different  examples  of  the  French,  Flemish,  Vene- 
tian, Lombardic,  Genoese,  Bolognese,  Roman,  Holland,  and 
Spanish  schools  of  painting. 

Raphael's  Madonna,  in  this  collection,  —  one  of  the  great 
■works  of  art  in  the  world,  —  has,  as  it  should  have,  a  room 
by  itself,  and  is  so  perfect  a  work  that  no  art  education  is 
required  to  enjoy  it.  This  beautiful  woman,  holding  a  love- 
ly child  in  her  arms,  with  the  beautiful  Santa  Barbara 
kneeling  at  one  side  of  her  feet,  and  a  venerable  old  man 
(St.  Sixtus)  at  the  other,  and  with  the  two  cherubs  below, 
forms  a  group  that  is  familiar  to  the  whole  world.  But  the 
surpassing  beauty  and  heavenly  expression  of  the  Madonna's 
countenance,  the  loveliness  of  the  child  in  her  arms,  and 
even  the  exquisite  beauty  of  St.  Barbara's  face,  and  angelic 
countenances  of  the  cherubs,  have  never  yet  been  caught  by 
copyists.  They  exist  here  only  in  the  original  of  the  great 
master,  as  does  the  rich  coloring  of  the  drapery,  the  celes- 
tial halo  of  the  floating  clouds,  and  the  general  happy  com- 


380  Raphael's  madonna. 

bination  of  coloring,  grouping,  and  finish  that  servo  to  make 
a  perfect  Avhole. 

This  work  of  Kaphael  belongs  to  his  most  brilliant  epoch, 
and  is  the  only  oil-painting  which,  in  conception  and  bold- 
ness of  execution,  reaches  the  character  and  grandeur  of  the 
celebrated  cartoons.  According  to  Vasari,  it  was  painted 
for  the  high  altar  of  the  black  monks  of  the  Convent  of  St. 
Sisto,  at  Plaisance,  and  remained  there  until  Augustus 
III.,  who  had  already  admired  it  when,  as  electoral  prince, 
he  visited  Italy,  made  an  unsuccessful  effort  to  purchase  it. 
But  it  was  not  until  forty  years  after  his  visit,  in  1T54, 
that,  by  the  enterprise  of  an  artist  named  Giovannani,  who 
had  made  himself  thoroughlj'^  acquainted  with  its  beauties 
and  its  authenticity,  it  was  purchased  for  this  gallery  for  the 
round  sum  of  nine  thousand  pounds. 

Giovannani  made  the  monks  take  down  the  picture,  which 
had  remained  for  two  hundred  years  above  their  altar,  and 
which  had  become  dry  and  somewhat  blackened,  before  ho 
would  positively  decide  to  take  it.  Close  examination  re- 
vealed that  but  slight  restoration  would  bring  out  all  its  won- 
drous beauties  :  a  part  of  the  drapery  was  bent  back  into 
the  frame,  and  a  portion  of  the  infant's  body  stained  with 
incense  smoke,  which  could  easily  be  removed.  The  princi- 
pal injury,  which  was  easily  remedied,  was  the  extreme  dry- 
ness to  which  it  had  been  subjected.  The  picture  was  secured 
and  sent  to  Dresden  as  soon  as  the  shrewd  monks  could  have 
a  copy  made  to  take  its  place  over  their  altar.  It  was  not  un- 
til 1827  that  the  picture,  after  arrival  in  Dresden,  was  carefully 
cleansed,  and  then  the  upper  part  of  the  curtain  and  aureole 
in  the  picture  was,  for  the  first  time,  discovered  turned  back 
beneath  the  frame.  This  portion  was  properly  stretched,  and 
the  painting  restored  to  its  original  dimensions. 

It  is  said  that,  when  the  painting  arrived  at  Dresden, 
Augustus  was  so  impatient  to  see  this  much  desired  master- 
piece, that  he  ordered  it  to  be  brought  and  unpacked  at  the 
royal  castle.      It  was  carried  into  the  throne-room,  or  hall 


THE    HOLBEIN    MADONNA.  381 

of  audience,  and  on  being  unpacked  the  attendants  hesitated 
about  phicing'  it  in  the  best  light,  which  was  on  the  dais  occu- 
pied by  the  throne  itself.  The  king,  however,  moved  the 
royal  seat  with  his  own  hands,  exclaiming,  "  Place  for  the 
great  Raphael,"  an  evidence  of  his  royal  devotion  to  art. 

The  Holbein  Madonna,  a  picture  which  was  originally 
painted  by  Holbein  for  a  burgomaster  of  Basle  named 
Meyer,  and  in  which  the  artist  introduced  portraits  of  his 
patron's  family,  is  another  of  the  masterpieces  of  the  Dres- 
den collection.  There  is  a  dispute  as  to  whether  this  is  the 
original  picture  by  Holbein  or  the  so-called  Darmstadt 
Madonna,  now  in  the  possession  of  Princess  Elizabeth  of 
Hesse,  —  tliis  being  said  to  be  Holbein's  own  copy  of  his 
original,  and  by  others  vice  versa. 

Be  this  as  it  ma}',  the  Dresden  picture  is  a  beautiful  work 
of  art,  rich  in  coloring  and  glorious  in  finish,  notwith- 
standing two  of  the  kneeling  figures,  at  the  right,  seem  like 
Turkish  women  half  enveloped  for  a  walk,  the  infant  in  the 
mother's  arms  puny,  and  far  inferior  in  ruddy  health  and 
beauty  to  the  one  at  the  Madonna's  feet,  which  is  evidently 
a  portrait  of  the  sturdy  old  burgomaster's  youngest ;  his 
heavy  self  kneeling  close  at  hand. 

This  picture  has  quite  a  history,  having  passed  through 
many  hands  after  the  burgomaster  paid  his  thousand  silver 
crowns  for  it,  and  was  at  last  bought  in  Venice  in  IT-tS  for 
this  gallery  for  a  thousand  sequins. 

The  masterpieces  of  great  artists  are  so  many,  the  collec- 
tion of  gems  of  art  so  rich,  that  one  hardly  knows  where  to 
begin,  what  to  mention,  or  which  to  omit.  Here  wo  revel 
in  an  exceedingly  rich  collection  of  the  Flemish  and  Dutch 
school  of  art.  Old  Brouwer's  Dutch  boors;  Van  Ostade, 
whose  pictures  almost  smell  of  beer  and  tobacco  ;  Gerard 
Duow's  beautifully  finished  works.  I  will  not  say  how  long 
I  stood  gazing  at  his  faultless  and  beautiful  Praying  Hermit, 
wherein  the  gray  head  and  beard,  the  old  brown  robe, 
skull,  hour-glass,  and  book,  the  bank  of  earth  upon  which 


382  MASTEEPIECES   OF    GREAT    BIASTERS. 

they  are  placed,  the  vegetation,  tree-trunk,  and  surroundings 
are  so  exquisitely  finished  and  faithfully  executed  as  to  excite 
expressions  of  admiration  even  from  the  inexperienced. 

Teniers  and  Snyders  are  here  in  abundance.  Of  the  former 
I  noted  Peasants  in  an  Ale-house,  his  Chemist  at  a  Furnace, 
and  A  Village  Fair.  Then  we  had  a  host  of  Wouvermans, 
witli  that  everlasting  white  horse  in  every  picture  ;  cows  by 
Paul  Potter  ;  Cuyps  ;  beautiful  landscapes  by  Jacob  Ruys- 
dael  ;  the  deliciously  finished  details  of  Wilhelm  and  his  son, 
Franz  Mieris  (one  especially,  of  an  old  gamester,  whom  a  girl 
with  glass  of  wine  in  hand  is  embracing,  is  exquisitely  fin- 
ished) ;  a  girl  bringing  wine  to  a  man  seated  at  a  table,  and 
other  figures,  with  a  beauty  of  finish,  detail,  and  color  that 
Gerome  and  Meissonier  to-day  cannot  rival. 

The  spectator  may  enjoy  twenty  specimens  of  Rembrandt, 
among  which  is  his  well-known  picture  of  himself,  with  wnfe 
en  knee  and  tall  beer-glass  in  hand,  so  familiar  from  its 
reproduction  in  photographs  and  in  paintings  on  porcelain, 
and  distinguished  for  its  richness  of  coloring  of  his  own 
somewhat  theatrical-looking  costume,  the  pretty  German 
face  of  his  wife,  and  the  faithfulness  of  the  execution  of 
drapery.  Noah's  Sacrifice,  portrait  of  an  old  woman 
weighing  gold,  portraits  of  the  artist,  &c.,  are  among  his 
other  works. 

The  Reading  Hermit,  by  Salomon  Koninx,  which  is 
frequently  copied  upon  porcelain,  is  a  wonderfully  executed 
work  of  art :  the  aged,  wrinkled  brow,  broad,  massive,  and 
thoughtful  ;  the  coarse,  brown  robe,  the  broad,  snowy 
beard,  the  attitude,  as  he  leans  upon  one  hand,  while  with 
the  otlicr  he  supports  the  broad  volume  that  he  pores  over, 
are  all  magically  correct ;  you  almost  expect  a  passing 
zephyr  blowing'  in  at  tlie  cave  opening  will  make  the  old 
recluse's  snowy  beard  sway,  or  rustle  the  leaves  of  his 
massy  volume,  which  look  as  if  you  could  turn  them  over 
at  will.  The  folds  of  the  brown  woollen  robe  can  scarcely 
bo  counterfeit,  for  within  half  a  dozen  feet  you  cannot  tell 
it  from  reality. 


OLD    VS.    NEW    SCHOOL.  383 

Ah  !  it  is  the  work  of  these  truly  great  artists,  where 
harmony  of  composition,  blending  of  colors,  and  grace  of 
attitude  combine  to  make  the  picture,  and  are  coupled  with 
such  a  thorough  counterfeit  of  reality  as  this,  that  makes 
one  think  that  such  genuine  art,  such  indisputable  excel- 
lence, smashes  to  atoms  all  the  fine  theories  respecting  new- 
school  daubs  and  obscurities,  glaring  effects,  and  color  com- 
binations, which  must  be  viewed  at  a  certain  distance,  or  in 
certain  lights,  and  which  we  are  told  to  accept  as  high  art 
under  the  pain  of  excommunication  from  the  fashionable 
circles  of  the  art  patrons  and  art  critics  of  to-day. 

Another  beautiful  picture  with  which  I  was  familiar  from 
its  frequent  reproduction  on  porcelain  was  that  of  Vogel, 
of  the  two  little  children  who  had  paused  in  their  play  to 
turn  over  and  look  at  a  picture-book  of  birds  and  animals. 
The  sweet  face  of  the  youngster  that  is  turned  from  the 
book  towards  the  spectator,  will  linger  long  in  his  mind, 
with  its  childish,  innocent  beauty,  more  especially  if  the 
visitor  have  children  of  his  own. 

But  what  a  wealth  of  pictures  there  is  here  by  artists 
whose  names  are  of  world-wide  celebrity,  those  of  whom 
everybody  has  heard  who  has  ever  read  a  book  or  news- 
paper. Pictures,  the  copies  of  which  j'ou  have  seen  in 
magazines  and  story-books  when  a  boy,  that  you  have  seen 
as  framed  engravings,  have  looked  at  even  in  the  family 
Bible,  or  which  are  familiar  from  numerous  copies  in  everj'' 
style ;  here  they  startle  you  with  their  original  beauty, 
revealing  the  reason  of  their  frequent  and  rough  repro- 
ductions. 

For  here  are  the  works  of  Raphael,  Rembrandt,  Rubens, 
Correggio,  Angelica  Kauflrnan,  Snyders,  Teniers,  Ostade, 
Albrecht  Diirer,  Cuyp,  Carlo  Dolce,  Paul  Potter,  Guido 
Rerii,  and  others  whose  names  are  familiar  as  household 
words  everywhere,  and  hosts  of  others  familiar  to  art 
students  and  educated  persons,  and  whose  glorious  works 
excite  the  admiration  even  of  the  uneducated  who  gaze  upon 
them. 


384  ARRANGEMENT    OF    THE    PICTURBS. 

Like  the  Vatican,  the  Dresden  Gallery  is  one  of  those 
sights  that  should  be  enjoyed  leisurely  and  intelligently,  the 
visitor  looking  over  a  section  of  it  one  day  and  returning  in 
a  day  or  two  after  to  see  more,  taking  it  comfortably  and 
enjoyably,  or  he  may  find  that,  besides  a  confused  jumble 
of  ideas,  he  also  will  have  an  aching  head  and  fatigued 
limbs  from  the  perambulation  of  its  endless  galleries. 

It  is,  however,  a  succession  of  wonders  and  delights,  and 
the  general  arrangement  of  the  whole  excellent  and  sys- 
tematic. A  long  parallelogram  is  divided  into  twelve 
principal  halls,  with  a  grand  rotunda  in  the  centre. 

These  different  halls  are  devoted  to  the  different  schools 
of  art,  and  are  lettered  from  A  (which  is  devoted  solely  to 
Raphael's  Madonna)  to  N.  They  contain  large-sized  pic- 
tures, but  all  along  at  one  side  of  these  large  halls  are  a 
series  of  cabinets,  or  smaller  apartments,  containing  lesser- 
sized  paintings.  There  are  twenty-one  of  these  lesser  halls, 
which  are  fair-sized  apartments,  and  which,  added  to  the 
others,  make  thirty-five  rooms  in  all  the  visitor  must  traverse 
upon  this  floor,  to  say  nothing  of  the  corridors  and  staircases 
approaching  or  leaving  it.  Of  the  large  halls,  five  are 
devoted  to  the  Italian  schools  and  six  of  the  cabinets  ;  one 
large  hall  to  Spanish  and  Neapolitan  schools  ;  four  halls  and 
seven  cabinets  to  the  Netherlands  ;    one  to  the  German,  &c. 

These  are  on  the  main  or  first  floor  of  the  Gallery ;  but, 
leading  from  one  of  the  halls  of  the  Netherlands  pictures, 
is  a  corridor  by  which  you  reach  an  adjacent  pavilion  con- 
taining three  saloons  of  splendid  pictui'es  by  living  artists  ; 
and  then  we  have  the  cupola  saloon  in  the  centre  of  the  hall, 
adorned  with  elegant  pieces  of  Flemish  tapestry ;  and  from 
this  saloon  a  staircase  ascends  to  another  hall  or  upper  floor, 
which  the  guide-book  says  contains  "a  few  modern  pictures 
and  others  of  inferior  value."  But  I  found  Angelica  Kauflf- 
man's  picture  of  a  Vestal,  the  Disputation  of  Luther  and 
Dr.  Eck  —  a  fine  large  painting  by  Julius  llubner,  —  and  Paul 
Veronese's  Europa  on  the  Bull,  and  some  others,  which  were 


ARTS  TREASURE  HOUSE.  385 

only  "  inferior  "  on  account  perhaps  of  the  greater  wonders 
that  were  in  the  halls  below. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  there  are  no  less  than  forty 
different  rooms  full  of  paintings  in  the  Dresden  Gallery. 

Besides  those  already  mentioned,  I  find  numerous  gems 
of  art  marked  with  notes  of  admiration  in  my  note-book, 
among  which  are  some  beautiful  Correggios,  including  his 
Adoration  of  the  Shepherds,  and  Madonna  and  Saints  ;  Paul 
Veronese's  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  and  Christ  bearing  the 
Cross,  a  picture  of  great  power  ;  Titian's  Cupid  and  Venus  ; 
Guido  Reni's  grand  picture  of  Ninus  and  Semiramis  ;  Cor- 
reggio's  exquisite  Mary  Magdalene ;  Claude  Lorraine's  coast 
views  ;   Poussin's  beautiful  landscapes. 

Teniers  I  have  already  spoken  of.  Here  are  his  Boors  at 
a  Country  Fair  Drinking  and  Smoking  ;  and  there  are  scores 
of  his  and  Wouverman's  pictures  in  the  cabinets  that  you 
may  compare  the  one  with  the  other  at  leisure,  luxurious 
leisure  among  such  pictures  as  these.  Let  the  reader  re- 
flect, as  he  reads  the  few  names  given  in  these  pages,  what 
a  wealth  of  art  they  indicate,  and  what  a  treasure-house  of 
great  artists  we  are  in. 

Here  we  pause  in  a  room  of  pictures  by  Rubens  and 
Van  Dyck.  Here  is  another  with  Rembrandt's  portraits, 
and  Snyder's  Wild  Boar  Hunt ;  Van  Dyck's  Jupiter  and 
Danae,  and  his  Children  of  Charles  L  of  England  ;  Rem- 
brandt's Feast  of  Esther  and  Ahasuerus;  and  Rubens'  Diana 
and  Nymphs  i-eturning  from  the  Chase.  Another  hall  shows 
us  pictures  by  Holbein  and  Albrecht  Diirer ;  another,  Titian, 
Guido,  and  Caravaggio ;  and  another,  Ru3'sdacl,  Terburg,  and 
Ostade  ;  another  with  sixteen  pictux'es  by  Gerard  Duow,  and 
another  with  the  beautifully  finished  works  of  F.  and  W. 
Mieris. 

The  three  halls  of  modern  pictures  contain  many  striking 

and  beautiful  paintings.      Among  them  I  noted  that  of  the 

Saxon  Grenadiers  at  the   Buttle  of  Jena,  by  Schuster,  also 

his  Battle  of  Borodino,  both  superb  battle-pieces  ;  two  pic- 

25 


386  THE    TOURNAMENT   HALL. 

tures  by  Dahl  —  Signing  a  Deed,  and  the  Ferry  ;  and  a 
magnificent  Spring  landscape  and  Bridal  Procession,  by 
Richter.  But,  though  the  record  of  these  titles  calls  up  to 
the  author  a  series  of  the  most  beautiful  creations  of  the 
painter's  pencil,  it  is  only  dull  enumeration  perhaps  to  the 
reader  who  has  never  looked  upon  them. 

In  the  same  building  that  contains  the  gallery  of  pictures 
is  the  Historical  Museum,  a  magnificent  and  most  interest- 
ing coUectionr ;  and  the  Tournament  Hall  far  surpasses  the 
celebrated  Horse  Armory  of  the  Tower  of  London.  From 
the  very  entrance  into  this  grand  museum,  you  begin  to 
study  histor}'  from  relics  and  mementos  of  the  past.  The 
great  entrance-hall  is  furnished  in  the  Renaissance  style 
of  the  time  of  Augustus  I.,  and  hung  with  portraits  of 
the  Saxon  princes,  and  contains  curious  antique  furniture, 
great  cabinets,  and  richly  carved  chairs  and  tables.  Here 
in  Luther's  own  cabinet  is  the  old  goblet  from  which  he 
drank,  and  the  sword  that  he  once  held  in  his  determined 
grasp,  and  cups  of  curious  and  antique  workmanship  which 
belonged  to,  and  have  been  used  by,  celebrated  personages. 

Then  came  a  room  entirely  devoted  to  hunting  imple- 
ments. Here  were  the  cross-bows  and  bolts  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  the  tough  boar-spears,  and  elegantly  hilted  and 
richly  scabbarded  hunting-knives,  hunting-horns,  and  among 
these  latter  the  hunting-horn  used  by  Henry  IV.  of  France  ; 
the  falcon's  hood,  and  the  belts,  gloves,  bows  and  arrows 
of  the  archers.  But  the  grand  and  magnificent  display  is 
the  Tournament  Hall,  where,  seated  upon  their  motionless 
steeds,  ai'e  the  richly  armed  figures  of  the  old  warriors  of 
two  or  three  hundred  years  ago.  Tlie  wondrous  finish  of 
some  of  these  suits  of  mail  is  fairly  marvellous,  and  sug- 
gests tliat  the  jeweller's  art  must  have  been  united  with  the 
armorer's  to  produce  it,  so  exquisitely  are  the  inlaid  damas- 
cened and  chased  designs  wrought. 

Another  tliought  that  is  suggested  on  examining  these 
figures  is,  the  prodigious  amount  of  muscular  strength  and 


HISTORIC    ARMOR    SUITS.  '  387 

endurance  it  must  have  required  to  bear  about  this  weight 
in  battle,  and  the  impediment  it  must  have  been  to  rapid 
movements.  Doubtless  some  of  the  armor  displayed  hei'e 
is  the  show  or  parade  suits  of  the  princes  who  owned  them, 
but  a  large  portion  of  it  has  seen  actual  service  in  the 
battlefield  as  well  as  the  touruament  lists,  as  is  well  authen- 
ticated. 

One  suit  of  armor  of  solid  silver  was  most  elegantly 
wrought,  and  was  made  in  Italy  for  the  Elector  Chris- 
tian II.,  who  died  in  1611  ;  another  suit,  magnificently 
decorated,  was  made  for  the  same  prince  in  Augsburg,  and 
is  a  splendid  piece  of  workmanship.  Then  we  have  the 
armor  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  ;  two  elegantly  gilded  suits 
of  armor  of  Prince  Christian,  who  died  in  1630;  the  elegant 
armor  of  the  Duke  Charles  Emmanuel  of  Savoy,  who  died 
in  1630  ;  and  exquisitcl}^  wrought  suits  of  Milan  steel,  made 
as  light  as  such  metallic  clothing  could  be,  and  shield 
the  wearer  from  sword-cut  and  lance-thrust.  There  were 
numerous  figures  whose  names  were  as  novel  to  me  as 
those  of  the  Norse  chieftains,  which  were  labelled  as  hav- 
ing fought  in  their  suits  on  long  since  forgotten  battlefields, 
and  the  dints  of  the  contest  were  still  visible. 

Here,  in  the  next  apartment,  a  long  hall  called  the  Saloon 
of  Battles,  are  arranged  in  chronological  order  the  armor, 
weapons,  and  other  paraphernalia  of  war  used  by  the  Saxon 
princes  and  great  generals  ;  and  here  I  saw  the  armor  of 
that  brave  King  of  Poland,  John  Sobieski,  which  he  wore 
at  the  raising  of  the  siege  of  Vienna  in  1683  ;  the  swords 
of  Peter  the  Great  of  Russia,  Frederick  the  Gi-eat  of  Prussia, 
and  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden,  and  Augustus  the  Strong  of 
Poland  ;  Frederick  the  Great's  hat,  Napoleon's  boots,  shoes, 
and  pen  ;  and  a  weapon  of  a  more  peaceful  power,  Thor- 
waldsen's  chisel. 

As  an  evidence  of  the  strength  of  that  stout  old  chieftain, 
Augustus  the  Strong,  they  show  us  here  a  horseshoe  which 
he  broke  in  halves  by  twisting  it  in  his  more  than  iron  grip. 


388  THE  SALOON  OF  COSTUMES. 

TIere  is  the  sash  that  was  worn  by  the  Elector  Maurice  in 
the  battle  of  Sievershausen  in  1533,  where  he  was  killed  — 
and  the  stains  of  his  blood  are  still  visible  upon  it ;  pistols 
that  were  used  by  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  and  Louis  XIV. 
of  France  ;  a  perfect  series  of  fire-arms  from  their  first  in- 
vention down  to  the  present  time,  including  the  old  arque- 
buse  and  a  great  variety  of  curious  and  richly  finished 
pistols,  including  our  old  friend,  the  revolver,  of  a  hundred 
years  or  more  ago  ;  the  great  scythe-sword  used  by  the 
Poles  in  their  memorable  struggle  ;  curious  arms  and  tro- 
phies of  various  kinds  captured  by  the  Saxon  troops  in  dif- 
ferent memorable  battles,  including  a  Moslem  tent  of  a  Turk- 
ish commander,  and  the  horse-tail  standards,  cimeters,  and 
shields  taken  from  the  Turks. 

In  a  Saloon  of  Costumes  we  saw  the  robes  and  regalias 
of  the  old  kings  of  Poland,  which  were  most  gorgeous  in 
gold  embroidery  and  jewelry  ;  also  coronation  robes  worn 
by  various  princes.  The  shoes  worn  by  Napoleon  at  his 
coronation,  and  a  sumptuous  saddle  that  once  belonged  to 
him,  are  among  these  relics. 

Of  swords  there  seemed  to  be  every  conceivable  pattern, 
short,  long,  broad,  cavalry,  and  cimeter.  There  were  those 
with  their  hilts  wrought  to  a  degree  that  suggested  the 
Chinese  ivory  carving ;  others  fairly  crusted  and  blazing 
with  diamonds  and  precious  stones  ;  scabbards  of  gold, 
silver,  and  more  serviceable  leather  or  iron,  —  a  museum  of 
swords,  rich,  rare,  curious,  and  historical. 

But  we  have  not  yet  done  with  this  grand  collection  of 
art,  antiquity,  and  science,  the  Zwinger,  in  which  most  of  the 
noted  Dresden  collections  are  placed. 

Besides  those  already  mentioned,  there  is  the  natural-history 
collection,  which,  though  now  small,  will  soon  be  one  of  the 
most  interesting  of  its  features.  The  collection  of  stuffed 
birds  here  is  very  fine,  and  so  is  that  of  every  species  of 
butterfly  and  moth.  This  is  succeeded  by  a  hall  devoted  to 
minerals  and  fossils,  in  which  there  is  a  fine  display  of  ores 


AX    ALADDIX'S    CAVE.  389 

of  different  kinds,  geological  specimens,  and  curious  fossil 
birds,  fishes,  and  plants,  which  have  been  discovered  from 
time  to  time.  A  mathematical  and  medical  museum  con- 
tains many  curious  scientific  instruments  and  apparatus, 
some  of  which  are  of  memorable  historic  interest,  and  others 
showing  their  earliest  invention  and  progress  that  science 
has  since  made. 

Although  a  Saxon  king  to-day  would  make  but  a  poor 
display  in  the  comparison  of  his  income  list  with  that  of  the 
other  monarchs  of  the  old  world,  his  collection  of  treasures, 
kept  intact  and  handed  down  since  the  reign  of  Augustus 
the  Strong  in  1Y24,  would  indicate  more  gorgeous  posses- 
sions than  any  other,  and  rival  those  which  wo  have  read  of 
as  belonging  to  East  Indian  princes. 

For  when  one  fairly  gets  in  among  the  wonders  of  the 
celebrated  Green  Vaults,  it  really  seems  as  if  the  workshop 
of  the  fabled  gnomes  had  been  opened  to  view,  such  is  the 
wondrous  wealth  of  gold  and  gems  and  precious  stones  there 
displaj'ed,  and  not  only  of  value  in  themselves,  but  made 
more  so  by  the  curious  and  ingenious  workmanship  that  has 
been  bestowed  upon  them  ;  and  as  you  pass  from  room  to 
room,  and  from  cabinet  to  cabinet,  where  curious-shaped 
pearls  are  used  t6  represent  grotesque  dwarfs,  and  rubies 
and  emeralds  are  wrought  into  Lilliputian  figures,  great 
ostrich-eggs  into  artistic  drinking-cups,  and  whole  fortunes 
of  diamonds  twisted  into  glittering  and  flashing  semblance 
of  feathers,  plumes,  and  flowers,  you  can  but,  amid  continu- 
ous exclamations  of  wonder  and  admiration,  find  that  the 
thought  will  continually  intrude  itself,  as  to  whether  the 
years  of  patient  labor  required  to  produce  these  results 
might  not  have  been  better  expended,  or  whether  this  won- 
drous collection  of  wealth  might  not  be  used  to  more  ad- 
vantage and  service  to  mankind. 

The  royal  palace  which  contains  the  Green  Vaults  is  an 
irregular  old  building  inclosing  two  quadrangles.  It  was 
founded  in  1534,  and  in  the  eighteenth  century  was  enlarged 


390     ■  THE    GREEN    VAULTS. 

and  improved  by  Aug-ustus  the  Strong.  In  fact,  it  seems 
as  if  one  could  scarcely  look  up  any  autlioritj'  of  museum, 
palace,  science,  art,  or  advancement  here  that  this  grand  old 
Augustus  in  his  time  did  not  put  the  impress  of  his  encoura- 
ging influence  upon. 

At  one  end  of  this  palace  is  a  fine  tower,  said  to  be  the 
loftiest  in  Dresden,  over  three  hundred  and  sixty  feet  in 
height,  which  I  should  have  liked  to  ascend  ;  but  from  some 
blunder  of  my  ticket  of  admission,  or  from  the  lack  of  my 
knowledge  of  the  tongue  of  the  country'-,  or  the  custodian's 
lack  of  understanding  of  English  and  French,  we  were  un- 
able so  to  do,  and  contented  ourselves  with  viewing  the 
magnificent  frescos  in  the  throne-room,  which  represent 
different  scenes  in  the  lives  of  great  lawgivers,  com- 
mencing with  Moses  and  his  tables  of  stone,  and  coming 
down  to  Maximilian  I.  ;  and  the  splendid  state  ball-room, 
which  is  decorated  with  frescos  of  the  heroes  of  Greek  and 
Eoman  mythology  and  classical  history. 

The  Green  Vaults  we  found  to  be  on  the  ground  floor  of 
this  palace,  probably  so  called  because  they  are  not  green, 
but  were  once  decorated  in  that  color.  They  consist  of 
eight  different  rooms,  in  which  are  collected  a  most  won- 
drous assortment  of  curious  riches  —  among  them  splendid 
carvings  in  precious  metals.  A  statue  of  St.  George,  cut 
from  a  solid  piece  of  cast-iron,  is  a  curiosity,  although  iron 
maj'  not  be  classed  as  a  "  precious  "  metal;  but  in  the  same 
room  are  bronzes  of  rare  and  beautiful  workmanship,  among 
them  one  by  John  of  Bologna,  a  crucifix  of  most  artistic 
design  and  finish,  also  groups  of  the  Rape  of  Proserpine, 
Bacchus  and  Children,  and  statues  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Au- 
gustus the  Strong,  and  numerous  other  elegant  figures  and 
groups. 

There  is  a  room  entirely  devoted  to  the  ivory  collection, 
which  contains  some  of  the  most  wonderful  specimens  of 
carving  in  that  article  I  ever  looked  upon.  One  is  an  ivory 
cup,  only  sixteen  inches  high,  which  is  one  mass  of  intricate 


WONDEES    OF    ARTISTIC    WORK.  391 

carving,  which  must  have  been  the  labor  of  years,  for  upon 
it  are  more  than  one  hundred  distinct  figures  carved,  repre- 
senting the  Foolish  Vii-gins,  lamps  in  hand  ;  Lucifer  and 
his  angels  being  hurled  down  from  Heaven  in  every  va- 
riety of  attitude  ;  and  the  very  features  in  the  faces  of 
these  figures  are  wrought  out  so  that  an  expression  is  visi- 
ble in  each,  A  wondrous  crucifix,  wrought  by  Michael 
Angelo  ;  a  battle-scene,  carved  by  the  cunning  chisel  of 
Albrecht  Diirer  ;  elegant  vases  carved  with  figures  in  bas- 
reliefs  ;  hunting-cups,  with  scenes  of  the  chase  beautifully 
wrought  upon  them  ;  elegantly  carved  sword  or  dagger 
handles  ;  groups  of  the  Battle  of  the  Centaurs  ;  Hunting  the 
Stag  ;  the  Crucifixion,  &c. 

Another  room  was  rich  in  elegant  Florentine  mosaics  ; 
carvings  in  amber  of  crucifixes  ;  angels,  Madonnas,  and  curi- 
ous figures  of  animals  and  flowers  ;  exquisite  paintings  in 
enamel,  including  a  beautiful  Madonna  and  Eccc  Homo ; 
wondrous  work  in  coral,  of  birds  and  flowers  and  heads  ;  a 
magnificent  chimney-piece  of  Dresden  china,  which  was  ele- 
gantly adorned  with  various  precious  stones,  agates,  chal- 
cedony, and  rock-crystals.  Others  contained  great  ostrich- 
eggs  fashioned  as  cups,  and  set  into  pedestals,  with  tracery 
and  pictures  wrought  upon  their  sides,  some  in  a  framework 
of  delicate  tracery  of  gold  that  spai'kled  with  diamonds, 
rubies,  and  emeralds  ;  nautilus-shell  cups,  their  sides  bril- 
liant with  the  hues  of  the  opal,  set  in  elaborate  framework 
of  the  goldsmith's  art,  a  choice  design  upholding  them,  as 
ship  or  vase  or  drinking-cup,  according  to  the  fancy  of  the 
designer  ;  drinking-cups  fashioned  by  the  artificer  into  grif- 
fins or  dragons,  and  seemingly  into  most  inconvenient  shapes 
for  use  ;  and  two  goblets  actually  cut  out  of  antique  gems, 
and  valued  at  ten   thousand  dollars  the  pair. 

Here,  in  one  of  the  rooms  devoted  to  gold  and  silver  orna- 
mental work,  we  saw  a  pitcher  and  cup  wrought  hj  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini  ;  splendid  gold  and  silver  wrought  plates, 
goblets,   pitchers,   and    cups    in    exquisite   design ;   and  in 


392  COSTLY    BURLESQUES. 

another  room,  cups  of  agate,  jasper,  chalcedony,  great  vases 
of  pure  and  beautiful  rock-crystal,  a  large  globe  of  rock- 
crj'Stal,  and  the  largest  pearl  in  the  world,  which  is  the  size 
of  a  hen's  egg,  and  wrought  into  the  shape  of  a  fat-bellied 
court  dwarf. 

A  display  of  jewels  of  rare  value,  and  the  magnificent  re- 
galia of  Augustus  II.,  King  of  Poland  ;  a  collection  of  Dres- 
den porcelain,  with  curious  carvings  in  ebony  and  other 
woods,  occupied  another  room,  —  a  perfect  museum  of  aston- 
ishing workmanship. 

Another  feature  of  the  Museum  was  a  curious  collection 
of  caricatures  of  men  and  animals,  made  from  pearls  and 
other  precious  stones,  —  a  man,  for  instance,  with  body 
of  glittering  ruby,  a  quaint-shaped  pearl  forming  his  face, 
and  two  sapphires  his  legs  ;  a  great  pearl  forming  the  body 
of  a  dog  ;  a  monkey,  with  eyes  that  flamed  in  rubies  and 
diamonds,  and  a  body  that  was  of  emerald  ;  curiously 
shaped  pearls,  sapphires,  agates,  or  other  precious  stones, 
that  would  make  you  laugh  to  see  how  these  natural  shapes 
had  been  adapted  to  cause  them  to  become  pot-bellied  little 
old  men,  red-bodied  hunchbacks,  or  green  dragons  with 
ruby  heads  and  diamond  eyes,  or  deformed  dwarfs,  whose 
bodies  were  worth  a  small  fortune  ;  serpents  that  flashed  iu 
all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  and  peacocks  that  unfolded 
most  attractive  tails. 

The  further  we  penetrated,  the  richer  and  more  wondrous 
grew  the  wealth.  Suits  of  armor  that  flashed  with  diamonds 
and  precious  stones  ;  regalia  that  was  heavy  with  rubies, 
emeralds,  diamonds,  pearls,  and  sapphires  of  marvellous  bril- 
liancy ;  plumes  of  diamonds,  and  necklaces  of  emeralds  and 
pearls  ;  one  grand  necklace  of  great  diamonds,  being  val- 
ued at  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  ;  swords 
that  in  drawing  you  might  grasp  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  the  great,  flashing  diamonds  that  studded 
the  hilt ;  the  electoral  sword  of  Saxony  ;  daggers  that  ri- 
valled   the   most  wondrous   worn  by  Eastern   princes,  and 


JEWELS    SOWN    BROADCAST.  393 

costly  jewels  that  were  enough,  it  seemed,  for  a  nation's 
ransom. 

In  the  room,  the  last  of  the  series,  diamonds  seem  to  be 
shown -in  masses,  and  other  precious  stones  to  be  a  drug; 
and  here  are  many  of  the  most  rare  and  interesting  speci- 
mens of  jewels  :  the  largest  onyx  known,  —  seven  inches 
high,  and  two  and  one-half  broad  ;  opals  of  a  size  and 
blaze  that  were  fairly  amazing  ;  the  largest  sardonyx  known, 
which  is  six  and  a  half  inches  long,  and  four  and  a  quar- 
ter broad  ;  Peruvian  emeralds,  presented,  in  1581,  by  the 
Emperor  Rudolph  III.;  splendid  sapphires,  one  of  very  large 
size,  the  gift  of  Peter  the  Great ;  a  black  diamond,  a  very 
rare  and  curious  gem  ;  two  rings  that  belonged  to  Martin 
Luther ;  the  crown-jewels,  including  one  remarkable  green 
diamond,  which  is  used  as  an  ornament  for  the  hat,  and 
weighs  one  hundred  and  sixty  grains,  and  is  worth  half  a 
million  dollars. 

Elegantly  wrought  works  of  the  goldsmith's  art  are  also 
displayed  here,  among  which  is  a  costly  lamp,  upon  which 
is  displayed  the  myth  of  Acteon  and  Diana  ;  beautiful  vases 
and  drinking-cups,  too  elegant  to  use,  being  simply  speci- 
mens of  rare  artistic  workmanship  in  the  precious  metals. 
Some  were  more  contrivances,  designed,  it  would  seem,  to 
prevent  persons  from  drinking  from  them.  Many  of  these 
were  wrought,  in  1705  to  1128,  by  a  celebrated  Saxon  ar- 
tificer (Dinglinger),  who  was  the  Saxon  Benvenuto  Cellini. 

But  the  crowning  wonder  in  the  Green  Vaults  is  the 
costly  toy  entitled  "  The  Court  of  the  Great  Mogul,"  which 
represents  the  Great  Mogul  seated  on  his  throne  in  state, 
surrounded  by  his  guards  and  courtiers,  receiving  and  giv- 
ing audience  to  ambassadors,  and  awaiting  the  approach  of 
troops  and  subjects,  who  arc  seen  advancing  to  do  homage 
or  bring  gifts  or  tribute.  The  space  occupied  by  this  court 
and  the  actors  in  it  is  about  thirtj'-six  by  fifty  inches  in 
space  ;  and  the  number  of  figures,  none  of  which  is  taller 
than  one's  little  finger,  is  one  hundred  and  thirty-two,  all  of 
gold,  diamonds,  and  precious  stones. 


394  COURT  OF  THE  GREAT  MOGUL. 

The  tent  over  the  Mogul's  elog-ant  gold-enamelled  and 
decorated  throne  is  of  gold, — the  tiirone  itself,  the  size  of 
half  a  letter-sheet,  a  perfect  blaze  of  diamonds,  rubies,  and 
emeralds.  The  figures  are  all  elegantly  apparelled  with 
rich  gold-enamel,  rubies,  diamonds,  and  costly  chasings 
upon  their  Oriental  robes  ;  and  the  most  delicate  finish  is 
visible  in  each  of  these  little  figures,  even  to  the  features  of 
their  faces  and  the  sparkling  of  jewels  on  their  sword-hilts. 
Some  of  the  figures  were  cut  jewels,  and  others  had  turbans 
of  cut  rubies  and  emeralds.  Here  approaching  is  an  am- 
bassador with  his  ofiicers ;  in  another  place,  a  troop  of 
horse  ;  again,  an  Eastern  dignitar}',  with  elephant,  Ethiopian 
slaves,  and  costly  retinue  ;  a  party  arriving  in  palanquins, 
a  whole  supper-party  carousing  at  table,  and  a  tiny  band  of 
musicians  playing  at  full  blast  upon  their  instruments; 
troops  of  guards,  properly  posted  ;  slaves,  sentinels,  and 
officials  passing  from  point  to  point  over  the  golden  terraces 
upon  their  several  duties.  All  are  beautifully  wrought  in 
the  highest  style  of  the  goldsmith's  art.  Twenty  years' 
time,  besides  I  know  not  what  amount  of  mono}',  was 
expended  in  this  golden  representation  of  Lilliput,  —  a 
curious,  wondrous,  and  most  costly,  and,  one  cannot  help 
saying,  useless  toy. 

Fatigued  with  our  examination  of  this  Aladdin's  cave,  we 
were  glad  of  a  pleasant  drive  round  the  outskirts  of  the 
city,  where  were  the  residences  of  many  of  the  better 
classes  of  people.  The  houses  are  generally  surrounded 
by  handsome  gardens,  and  at  one  angle  of  the  same  a  solid 
wall  is  built  towards  the  road  beneath  broad,  spreading 
trees  that  overhang  it,  or  an  arbor  is  trained  above  it.  Here 
in  this  angle  a  little  platform  for  tea  and  beer-drinking  is 
arranged  for  the  family,  where,  as  they  sit,  their  line  of  vis- 
ion is  just  over  the  inclosure,  so  that  the}''  see  all  the  pass- 
ing without  being  too  much  exposed  themselves.  Many  of 
these  arbors  at  the  wall-corners  are  elaborately  and  beauti- 
fully arranged,  and  shaded  with  beautiful  running  plants  or 


DRESDEN  BEER  GARDENS.  395 

ornamented  with  choice  exotics,  and,  on  pleasant  summer 
afternoons,  are  almost  always  occupied  by  family  groups. 

The  humbler  classes  in  the  suburbs,  who  have  no  such 
protection  from  the  scrutiny  of  the  passers-by,  seemed  to 
enjoy  themselves  equally  well  in  the  little  garden  plots  in 
front  of  their  houses  ;  and  it  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the 
old  artisan  and  his  family  grouped  around  a  pine  table,  and 
taking  their  evening  meal  beneath  a  little  bower  of  running 
vines  and  flowers,  sitting  in  their  rustic  seats  in  a  little  gar- 
den hardly  twenty  feet  square,  gay  with  many-hued  flowers, 
and  a  perfect  model  of  neatness. 

Good  musical  entertainments  may  be  had  at  a  very  cheap 
rate  in  Dresden,  —  that  is,  if  one  will  be  content  to  take 
them  as  a  larger  portion  of  the  inhabitants  do,  which  is  at 
the  beer  gardens  in  the  summer  season.  At  the  Belvedere 
Restaurant  and  Gardens,  on  the  banks  of  the  Elbe,  we  lis- 
tened to  a  very  fine  programme  of  music,  performed  by  a 
full  orchestra,  the  admission  to  whicb  was  but  about  ten 
cents.  The  sales  of  Vienna  beer,  light  wines,  and  other 
refreshments  to  the  four  or  five  hundred  persons  who  were 
present  was,  of  course,  the  chief  source  of  profit  to  the 
proprietor. 

At  this  place,  and  also  at  a  fine  park  called  the  Grosser 
Garten,  we  met  groups  of  people  of  the  first  respectability 
around  the  tables,  sipping  their  beer,  applauding  well-played 
compositions  heartily,  and  at  the  intermission  walking  about 
and  visiting  each  other  at  their  different  tables,  as  is  done 
at  different  boxes  at  the  opera-house.  The  waiters  at  these 
beer-gardens  literally  have  their  hands  full  ;  for  they  will 
carry  a  wonderful  number  of  beer-glasses  at  once,  and 
take  an  innumerable  number  of  orders  at  a  time,  the  latter 
being  given  and  executed  at  the  close  of  the  performance 
of  each  piece. 

Dresden  is  full  of  these  pleasure  and  beer  gardens,  and 
some  are  pleasantly  situated  on  the  river-banks,  and,  be- 
sides the  music,   give  exhibitions   of  fireworks   on   certain 


396  AMERICANS    IN   DRESDEN. 

evening-s  ;  or  the  visitor  may,  during*  the  day,  enjoy  the 
cool  breeze  and  j^leasant  views  which  they  command.  The 
American  visitor  in  Dresden  maybe  certain  of  finding  a  very 
liberal  representation  of  his  countrymen  in  the  summer  sea- 
son at  the  evening  concerts  at  these  places. 

As  it  is  pleasant  in  the  summer  season  here,  the  living  com- 
paratively cheap,  the  surroundings  of  the  city  pleasant,  music 
cheap,  excellent,  and  plentiful,  and  the  city  decorous  and  quiet, 
and  said  to  be  one  of  the  best  places  to  study  the  German 
language  in,  it  has  quite  a  large  population  of  American  and 
English  residents.  As  usual,  however,  I  was  informed  by  one 
of  my  countrymen  that  the  Americans  had,  by  their  prodi- 
gality of  expenditure,  been  the  means  of  raising  the  price  of 
living,  within  the  past  few  years,  as  well  as  that  of  articles 
which  tourists  most  do  purchase  ;  and  even  in  some  of  the 
beer-gardens,  the  sharper  sort  of  waiters  have  now  the  trick 
of  charging  the  newly  arrived  American,  whom  he  may  de- 
tect as  such,  a  trifle  more  than  the  regular  rate  for  his  glass 
of  beer,  a  trick  he  would  not  dare  practise  on  a  regular 
hahitae. 

There  seems  to  be  but  very  little  business  enterprise  in 
Dresden  ;  all  transactions  of  that  nature  being  carried  on  in 
a  slow,  phlegmatic,  Dutch  sort  of  style,  as  if  time  was  of  no 
account,  which  is  exceedingly  exasperating  to  the  electric 
American.  This  may  be  the  reason  that  many  tired  ones, 
who  have  come  to  Europe  for  rest  from  business,  halt  here 
for  the  season. 

Dresden  porcelain,  so  celebrated  the  world  over,  is  made 
at  the  Royal  Porcelain  Factory,  founded  in  IT  10,  at  Meissen, 
a  short  distance  from  the  city,  where  six  hundred  workmen 
are  kept  employed  ;  but  we  did  not  visit  it.  Scarce  any 
tourist  leaves  the  city,  however,  without  buying  a  specimen 
of  painting  on  porcelain ;  principally  copies  of  popular 
and  celebrated  pictures  in  the  gallery,  such  as  "  The  Choco- 
late Girl,"  "  The  Madonna,"  Salomon  Konincx's  "  Reading- 
Monk,"  Gerard  Duow's  "Praying  Hermit,"  "The  Three 
Children,"  by  Vogel,  &c. 


BERLIN  —  TJNTER   DEN   LINDEN.  397 

Very  beautiful  water-color  copies  of  the  Madonna  are  made 
here  ;  but,  as  poor  and  cheap  copies  are  also  made,  visitors 
who  purchase  either  porcelain  or  other  style  of  copies  of  pic- 
tures should  be  good  judges,  or  purchase  at  reliable  places, 
lest  they  be  imposed  upon.  Some  of  the  artists  who  copy 
pictures  on  porcelain  will  propose  to  take  orders  of  the 
visitor  and  forward  him  a  copy  to  Paris  or  London,  — a  risk 
which  should  seldom  if  ever  be  taken,  and  especially  no  money 
paid  in  advance  for  such  work  ;  for  these  artists  rival  the  Paris 
shopkeeper  in  the  matter  of  promises,  which,  they  evidently 
consider,  are  onlj'  invented  to  be  made,  not  performed. 

We  souglit  the  Hotel  du  Nord,  in  Berlin,  where  we  had 
very  tolerable  accommodations  at  fair  prices.  It  is  situated 
on  the  street  known  as  Unter  den  Linden,  which  is  a  broad, 
grand  avenue  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  in  width,  and, 
as  is  well  known,  takes  its  name  from  the  double  row  of 
linden-trees  that  are  planted  along  it,  and  which,  from  the 
frequent  references  made  to  it  by  newspaper  correspond- 
ents, the  style  in  which  authors  emphasize  the  "  linden  " 
part  of  it,  and  the  unctuous  manner  in  which  those  who 
spoke  of  it  rolled  out  the  words  "  Unter  den  Linden  "  from 
under  their  tongues,  had  been  pictured  in  my  imagination 
as  chiefly  remarkable  for  the  elegance  of  form  and  um- 
brageous shade  which  these  beautiful  trees  would  present ; 
but,  alas  !  for  imagination,  the  reality  presented  only  a  lean 
array  of  trees,  sparse  in  foliage,  and  nothing  to  compare  to 
the  linden  walk  on  Boston  Common,  the  elegant  elms  of 
New  Haven  or  Portland. 

As  far  as  the  linden  part  of  the  street  is  concerned,  it  is 
scarcely  up  to  mediocrit}'^ ;  but  it  is  in  the  busiest  and 
best  part  of  the  city,  contains  grand  hotels  and  sliops,  beau- 
tiful palaces,  and  statues,  including  that  of  Frederick  the 
Great ;  and,  crossing  it  at  right  angles,  are  many  of  the 
other  broad  avenues  of  the  city,  down  which  the  spectator, 
as  he  passes  them,  has  a  good  view  of  the  busy  scenes  that 
are  transpiring. 


898         STATUE  OF  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT. 

The  celebrated  Brandenburg  Gate,  which  is  a  sort  of  tri- 
umphal arch  between  the  city  and  the  great  pleasure  park 
of  several  hundred  acres,  known  as  the  lliier  Garten,  is  at 
one  end  of  this  grand  avenue,  and  the  Roj'-al  Palace  at 
the  other,  while  at  the  finest  point  in  the  street,  near  the 
great  public  buildings,  is  the  magnificent  bronze  statue  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  familiar  to  all  Americans  who  have 
visited  the  American  Centennial  Exposition  at  Philadelphia, 
where  so  man}''  bronze  copies  of  it  were  on  exhibition  in 
the  German  department. 

The  statue  of.  Frederick  the  Great,  being  but  a  few  rods 
distant  from  our  hotel,  was  the  first  sight  that  we  turned 
our  attention  to.  It  is  a  magnificent  monument  in  bronze, 
the  pedestal  surmounted  by  an  equestrian  figure  of  the 
monarch. 

Baedeker's  guide-book  says,  "  The  Great  King  is  repre- 
sented on  horseback,  with  his  coronation  robes  and  his 
walking-stick,  in  bronze."  If  Frederick's  coronation  robes 
were  a  close-fitting  military  frock,  and  a  military  cloak, 
fastened  at  the  neck,  and  falling  back  from  the  shoulders, 
then  this  description  is  correct ;  for  in  this  way  the  figure 
is  clad,  the  high  military  boots,  small  clothes,  sash,  and 
well-known  cocked  hat  completing  the  costume. 

The  monument  is  in  all  forty-two  feet  in  height,  its  ped- 
estal divided  into  three  sections.  The  first  above  the 
foundation-stone,  which  is  of  polished  granite,  contains  the 
inscription,  and  the  names  of  distinguished  men  of  the  time 
of  the  great  monarch.  Upon  the  top  of  this,  which  is  not 
covered  by  the  second  section,  —  which  is  smaller,  and 
leaves  a  broad  shelf  or  platform  all  around  it,  —  are  large 
bronze  figures,  of  life-size,  of  contemporaries  and  distin- 
guished militar}^  officers  of  the  king,  as  Prince  Henry  of 
Prussia,  Generals  Zieten,  Seydlitz,  and  others, — the  figures 
at  the  corners  being  equestrian. 

Upon  the  sides  of  the  second  section  are  also  figures  of 
distinguished  men,  sculptured  in  bas-relief.     Above  this  is 


STATUAEY   IN   BERLIN.  399 

the  third  section,  supporting'  the  platform,  upon  which 
stands  the  great  equestrian  figure.  This  block  is  orna- 
mented on  the  sides  and  ends  with  allegorical  and  other 
figures  representing  scenes  in  the  king's  life,  and  illustrating 
his  love  of  arts,  arms,  and  music ;  and  at  the  four  corners 
are  the  figures  of  Justice,  Strength,  Wisdom,  and  Mod- 
eration. 

Berlin  seems  to  be  partial  to  statues,  for  all  along 
Unter  den  Linden  are  statues  of  her  celebrated  men,  the 
military  element  predominating,  and  the  exteriors  of  the 
palaces  and  museums  are  adorned  with  groups  in  marble  or 
in  bronze.  A  little  further  along,  and  we  come  to  the 
palace  bridge,  or  old  Schloss-Briicle,  as  they  call  it,  which 
crosses  an  arm  of  the  river  Spree,  upon  which  the  city  is 
located.  On  each  side  of  this  bridge  are  four  groups  of 
marble  statuary,  larger  tlian  life,  illustrating  military  life, 
and  I  suppose  designed  as  an  incentive  to  the  Prussian 
military  spirit. 

In  the  first  group,  Minerva  is  exciting  tlie  youth  to  the 
profession  of  arms,  by  exhibiting  to  him  a  warrior's  shield, 
on  which  are  inscribed  the  names  of  Alexander,  Caesar,  and 
Frederick;  in  anotlier,  she  instructs  him  in  the  use  of  arms, 
and  is  teaching  him  to  throw  the  javelin  ;  in  another  she 
presents  him  with  a  sword  ;  and  in  the  fourth  she  crowns 
him  victorious.  The  other  groups  represent  her  protecting 
the  warrior,  encouraging  him  to  action,  raising  hi:n  when 
wounded,  and  conducting  him  in  triumph. 

Between  Frederick's  statue  and  the  bridge  just  described 
I  paused  to  look  at  the  bronze  statue  of  General  Bliicher, 
with  two  other  generals,  one  at  his  right  and  one  at  his 
left,  all  over  life-size  ;  and  in  front  of  the  guard-house  are 
placed  statues  of  Biilow  and  another  general,  both  very 
well  executed  in  bronze,  and  the  pedestals  ornamented 
with  handsome  bas-reliefs  ;  while  beyond  the  bridge,  in  the 
Lus/garlen,  —  a  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  square  in- 
closure, — is  an  equestrian  statue  of  Frederick  William  III. 


400  OLD    FRIENDS    IN    A    NEW    PLACE. 

Tliis  inclosure  is  bounded  by  the  Royal  Palace  on  one  side, 
the  old  Museum,  tlie  Cathedral,  and  the  arm  of  the  Spree 
just  spoken  of,  on  the  others. 

The  old  Museum  front  presents  a  beautiful  Ionic  portico, 
about  two  liundred  and  seventy-five  feet  in  length,  with  a 
double  row  of  handsome  pillars  of  that  order  of  architec- 
ture, eighteen  in  number.  Above  them,  upon  the  cornice 
they  support,  is  a  row  of  eagles  with  half-spread  wings ;  and 
high  above  these,  on  the  corners  of  a  central  dome,  two 
groups  of  statuary, —  "the  Dioscuri"  is  what  the  guide- 
book calls  them,  and  which  the  reader  who  is  not  versed  in 
Greek  and  Roman  mythology  (as  is  the  condition  of  more 
than  two-thirds  of  those  who  use  guide-books),  will  ascer- 
tain, on  overhauling  his  classical  dictionary,  means  the  well- 
known  mythical  heroes.  Castor  and  Pollux.  Castor  was 
famed  for  his  skill  in  managing  horses,  and  Pollux  for  box- 
ing ;  so  one  may  presume  that  the  statues  must  have  been 
designed  for  the  equestrian  brother,  as  they  represent  ath- 
letes beckoning  or  holding  up  their  arms  to  rampant  hoi'ses. 

But  if  the  traveller  has  been  at  Rome,  he  will  recognize 
thorn  as  copies  of  the  two  groups  on  Monte  Cavallo,  or 
Quirinal  Hill,  which  are  supposed  to  represent  Castor  and 
Pollux,  and  to  have  been  sculptured  by  Phidias  and  Prax- 
iteles. Indeed,  a  later  edition  of  one  guide-book  seems  to 
recognize  this  error  of  supposing  all  travellers  to  possess 
a  classical  education,  and  calls  the  statuary  "The  Horse- 
tamers   of  Monte   Cavallo." 

At  each  side  of  the  entrance  of  the  old  Museum  are  two 
splendid  bronze  groups  :  one  a  horseman  engaged  in  combat 
with  a  lion  that  he  has  thrown  to  the  ground,  and  is  about 
to  transfix  with  his  spear;  and  the  other  an  old  and  familiar 
acquaintance  that  figured  at  the  first  Crystal  Palace  Exhibi- 
tion in  London,  —  the  Amazon  on  horseback,  defending  her- 
self against  a  tiger,  by  Kiss,  —  a  beautiful  and  effective 
group.  In  front  of  the  steps  of  the  Museum  is  a  huge 
granite  basin,  which   fairly  rivals  some  of  the  great  stone 


MAGNIFICENT  BRONZE  GEOUP.  401 

vases  of  the  ancient  Komans,  which  are  preserved  in  the 
collection  in  the  Vatican,  for  it  is  twenty-two  feet  in  diam- 
eter, and  weighs  seventy-five  tons.  It  was  cut  from  a 
single  large  bowlder,  and  brought  to  Berlin  from  a  spot 
thirty  miles   distant. 

Two  more  large  groups  of  "  horse-tamers  "  are  posted  at 
the  entrance  by  which  the  public  are  admitted  from  the 
Lustgarten  to  the  Royal  Palace  ;  and  one  of  the  most  spir- 
ited groups  of  bronze  statuary  in  Berlin,  I  think,  is  that  of 
St.  George  and  the  Dragon,  a  colossal  group  in  bronze,  by 
Kiss,  in  the  first  great  court-yard  after  entering  at  this 
portal. 

It  represents  the  valiant  English  champion,  not  in  armor 
save  coroneted  helmet,  which  gives  opportunity  for  the 
sculptor  to  show  the  contour  of  an  elegantly  moulded 
form,  seated  upon  a  rearing  horse.  With  left  hand  he 
bears  the  banner  of  the  cross  aloft ;  the  right  is  swung  up, 
grasping  the  trenchant  blade  for  the  downward  cut  at  the 
monster  that  is  partially  prostrated  beneath  his  horse's  fore 
feet,  but  which  rears  its  terrible  form,  the  scales  upon  the 
neck  rising  with  its  anger,  and  its  horrid  claws  uplifted  to 
drag  the  rider  from  his  seat.  The  figure  of  the  dragon, 
with  its  demoniac  wings,  scales,  and  long,  serpent-like  tail, 
with  its  fold  catching  around  one  of  the  horse's  hind  legs, 
is  the  best  reproduction  of  the  mythical  monster  that  I 
have  ever  seen.  Certainly  it  is  a  most  elaborate  and  fin- 
ished piece  of  work,  while  the  figure  of  the  horse  is  excel- 
lently done ;  and  St.  George,  with  noble  and  determined 
countenance,  sits  the  steed  like  a  bold  rider,  and  wields  his 
svvord  like  a  brave  warrior. 

Just  before  passing  over  the  Scliloss-Brilclce  (palace 
bridge)  above  mentioned,  we  see  the  Grand  Opera  House, 
along  the  roof  of  which  is  a  perfect  string  of  statuary  ; 
and  in  the  tympanum,  which  is  a  sort  of  flat,  triangular 
space  inclosed  by  the  cornice,  supported  by  four  pillars 
above  the  main  entrance,  is  an  appropriate  group,  which  is 
26 


402  THE    BRANDENBURG    GATE, 

cast  in  zinc.  They  represent  the  Muse  of  Music,  the  Tragic 
and  Comic  Muses,  the  Dramatic  Poet,  allegorical  figures  of 
Painting  and  Sculpture,  a  Terpsichorean  group,  and  the 
Three  Graces. 

The  reader  will  observe,  or  he  who  has  ever  been  in  Ber- 
lin, that  I  am  taking  the  usual  first  walk  of  every  newly 
arrived  tourist  who  settles  himself  upon  Unter  den  Linden, 
that  is,  a  saunter  up  and  down  that  splendid  avenue,  to  get 
the  bearings  and  distances,  and  see  the  beautiful  buildings 
and  their  exterior  ornamentations,  and  the  statues  that 
abound  in  the  city,  before  entering  the  picture-galleries, 
museums,  or  shops.  So  I  went  to  the  other  end  of  the 
famous  street  to  see  the  Brandenburg  Gate,  which  is  at  the 
ojjposite  point  from  that  which  I  have  just  been  describing. 

This  structure  is  modelled  after  the  Propylae,  an  entrance 
to  a  grand  temple  or  sacred  inclosure  at  Athens.  It  is  a 
splendid  structure,  seventy  five  feet  in  height,  and  two  hun- 
dred in  width.  The  central  entrance  is  reserved  for  royalty 
only,  and  the  structure  is  supported  by  elegant  Doric  col- 
umns. There  arc  four  other  entrances ;  and  the  top  is 
crowned  by  a  group,  in  copper,  of  Victory  in  a  chariot 
drawn  by  four  horses,  which  is  celebrated  as  having  been 
carried  away  by  Bonaparte  in  1807,  but  brought  back  in 
triumph  in   1814. 

Near  this  gate  is  the  fine  square  known  as  Fariser  Plalz, 
named  in  honor  of  the  victories  of  1814  ;  and  about  here  are 
several  beautiful  buildings,  among  them  Blucher's  Palace, 
presented  to  him  by  the  city  as  a  testimonial  for  his  arriving 
at  Waterloo  before  night,  and  thereby  gratifying  Welling- 
ton's wish  on  that  memorable  day,  "that  night  or  Bliicher 
would  come;"  the  residence  of  Marshal  Wrangel  ;  and  the 
palaces  of  the  French  embassy.  Count  Boitzenberg;  and 
various  public  buildings. 

By  the  time  one  has  reached  the  Brandenburg  Gate, 
making  the  pedestrian  tour  that  I  had,  in  this  first  examina- 
tion of  Unter  den  Linden,  he  comes  to  the  conclusion  that 


THE  PEOPLE  OF  BERLIX.  403 

there  is  much  here  to  see,  and  that  Berlin  is  a  large  city. 
One  fact  which  struck  nie  as  singular  is,  that  so  little  stone 
isi  used  in  the  construction  of  buildings.  This  was  found  to 
be  accounted  for  by  the  fact,  that  there  are  no  good  stone 
quarries  in  the  vicinity  of  Berlin ;  hence  brick  and  stucco 
work  is  extensively  used,  which  lacks  tliat  solid  and  sub- 
stantial appearance  which  one  looks  for  in  large  buildings. 
Berlin  is  said  to  be  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  dreary  plain 
of  sand,  that  is  destitute  of  either  beauty  or  fertility,  and  a 
writer  has  described  it  as  "  an  oasis  of  stone  and  brick  in  a 
Sahara  of  sand."     But  there  is  more  brick  than  stone. 

The  city  of  Berlin  ranks  fourth  among  the  capitals  of 
Europe,  and  contains  nearl}'^  a  million  of  inhabitants,  of 
which  twenty-three  thousand  are  soldiers,  twenty  thousand 
Eoman  Catholics,  and  sixteen  thousand  Jews.  When  Louis 
XIV.  was  weak  and  despotic  enough  to  revoke  the  cel- 
ebi'ated  Edict  of  Kantes,  as  he  did  in  1685,  and  drive  four 
hundred  thousand  Protestants  out  of  French  dominions, 
who  would  rather  leave  the  country  than  conform  to  the 
established  religion,  France  lost  by  the  act  her  best  mer- 
chants, manufacturers,  and  skilled  artisans.  The  loss  to 
the  nation  was  immense,  and  the  gain,  to  Prussia  and  other 
countries  that  received  them  with  open  arms,  correspond- 
ingly great.  Berlin  especially  profited  by  this  emigration, 
and  there  are  still  among  her  inhabitants  over  six  thousand 
French  Protestants,  descendants  of  the  exiles  who  left  their 
native  land  and  sought  asylum  here  by  reason  of  the  French 
sovereign's  infamous  decree.  The  surface  of  the  city  of 
Bei'lin  is  as  flat  as  Philadelphia,  but  is  not  laid  out  in  such 
painfully  parallelogramic  regularity  as  the  American  city. 
Its  streets  are  broad  and  generally  well  kept,  and  there  is 
but  little  in  their  general  features  to  remind  the  American 
that  he  is  in  a  foreign  country. 

The  streets  are  all  "  strasses  "  (straassers,  as  you  must 
learn  to  call  them),  and  you  will  find  in  the  old  part  of  the 
town    the    Konigs-Slrasse,  or   King's    Street,    a   busy    and 


404  PUBLIC   BUILDINGS. 

bustling  scene  of  trade.  Here  is  situated  the  Imperial  Post 
Office  ;  and,  opposite,  a  splendid  brick  edifice,  the  Balhhaus, 
as  Baedeker's  guide-books  call  it,  neglecting  to  translate  it 
into  English  as  the  City  Hall.  It  is  built  of  granite  and 
brick,  and  has  a  frontage  of  three  hundred  and  twenty-five 
feet,  a  magnificent  portal,  and  a  great  tower  which  is  two 
hundred  and  seventy-six  feet  in  height.  I  sauntered  in 
without  guide,  and  up  its  staircase  to  a  grand  corridur,  the 
vaulting  of  which  was  spangled  with  stars,  and  the  glorious 
stained-glass  windows  rich  with  the  armorial  bearings  of 
nearly  one  hundred  different  cities  and  towns ;  and  entered 
the  magnificent  saloon  devoted  to  the  library,  the  vaulted 
ceiling  of  which  is  upheld  by  fourteen  columns  and  twenty 
pillars.  The  books  are  in  bookcases,  the  doors  of  which 
are  ornamented  with  medallion  portraits. 

There  is  another  elegant  hall  here,  which  the  guide-book, 
presuming  that  all  travellers  understand  German,  calls  a 
"  Fesisaal/'  and  which  a  German  friend  tells  me  signifies 
Banquet  Hall,  which  has  a  superb  ceiling  in  fret-work,  broad 
oaken  doors  e'.egautly  carved,  and  magnificent  candelabra. 
Near  by  is  the  Town  Council-Chamber,  which  is  elegantly 
decorated  ;  and  the  Magistrate's  Saloon,  which  is  adorned 
with  fine  full-length  pictures  of  the  kings  of  Prussia  The 
grand  tower  of  this  building  is  said  to  command  a  fine  pros- 
pect;  but  the  author,  having  had  considerable  pedestrian 
exercise  in  the  lengthy  streets  of  Berlin,  resisted  the  cour- 
teous invitation  of  the  custodian  to  ascend. 

Other  interesting  streets,  which  my  pedestrian  rambles 
brought  me  into  one  day,  are  the  Leipziger-Strassc  and  the 
Friedrichs-Strasse,  tlie  latter  the  longest  street  in  Berlin. 
This  quarter  of  the  city,  called  the  Friedrich  StaJl,  is  tliat 
most  visited  by  tourists,  is  the  best  and  most  regularly  laid 
ont,  and  contains  tlie  finest  shops.  And,  speaking  of  shops, 
Berlin  is  the  headquarters  for  amber  ornaments.  There  are 
quantities  of  amber  used  in  Vienna  and  other  cities  for 
monthpieces  ibr  pipes;   but  Berlin  is  where  the  tourist  can 


BERLIN-  STREETS  AND  SHOPS.  405 

make  his  purchases  most  to  advantage.  In  the  shop-win- 
dows, elegant  necklaces,  chains,  bracelets,  brooches,  cigar- 
holders,  mouthpieces,  and  even  candlesticks  and  vases  of  it, 
were  exhibited,  some  of  exquisite  and  delicate  straw  color 
and  translucent.  This  is  the  "earth  amber,"  and  is  the 
most  valuable.  Amber  varies  in  delicacy  of  tint  like  coral, 
the  palest  and  lightest  of  yellow  being  the  most  expensive, 
and  the  latter,  of  the  purest  description,  can  be  found  iu 
beautiful  designs  at  the  Berlin  shops. 

In  America,  we  are  all  familiar  with  Berlin  worsted  work. 
The  worsted  was  in  old  times  called  "  crewel,"  to  distin- 
guish it  from  worsted  yarn.  Hei'e  the  fine,  delicate  work 
called  single  stitch,  especially  in  delicate  designs  of  flowers, 
and  even  copies  of  paintings  for  screens,  which  are  wrought 
with  great  beauty,  may  be  purchased  at  a  price  which  to 
American  ideas  is  a  very  low  figure  ;  and  American  ladies, 
consequently,  come  away  laden  with  it ;  while  the  beadwork, 
which  in  America  is  sold  with  Berlin  work,  and  which  some 
of  my  lady  friends  expected  also  to  find  here,  they  were 
disappointed  in  not  being  able  to  obtain,  that  class  of  work 
being  found  in  its  perfection  in  Frankfort  and  Munich. 

The  Leipziger-Strasse,  above  mentioned,  is  also  a  fine 
avenue,  running  parallel  with  Unler  den  Linden,  and  is  a 
busy  street  full  of  shops,  containing,  among  other  attractions 
to  shoppers,  the  show-rooms  of  the  Royal  Porcelain  Manu- 
factory, filled  with  beautiful  specimens  of  this  attractive 
merchandise,  which  fairly  rivals  the  Dresden  work.  It  is  a 
museum  of  samples  of  the  best  work  from  the  royal  facto- 
ries. Strolling  down  this  street,  the  pedestrian  will  see 
sculptured  in  sandstone,  in  front  of  the  Prussian  War  De- 
partment, figures  of  an  artillery-man,  a  light  horseman, 
cuirassier,  and  grenadier. 

Wilhelms-Strasse  (William  Street,  the  translation  of  many 
of  these  street  names  is  so  obvious  that  it  is  hardly  neces- 
sary to  give  them)  is  quite  an  elegant  avenue.  It  leaves 
Unler  den  Linden,  and,  with  Friedrichs-Strasse  and  a  street 


406  THE    TniERGARTEX. 

called  Linden-Strasse,  terminates  in  a  grand  circular  "  Platz  " 
known  as  the  Belle  Alliance  Platz,  named  in  honor  of  the 
alliance  against  Napoleon,  and  containing  a  magnificent 
monument  erected  in  honor  of  the  peace  of  1815,  called  the 
Column  of  Peace,  which  was  raised  in  1840  to  commemorate 
a  peace  that  had  lasted  a  quarter  of  a  century.  It  is  a 
splendid  column  of  granite,  with  marble  capital,  surmounted 
by  a  figure  of  Victory,  with  the  wreath  in  one  hand  and  the 
palm  of  peace  in  the  other.  The  Wilhelras-Strasse,  near  the 
Under  den  Linden,  is  considered  the  most  aristocratic  quar- 
ter-of  Berlin,  containing,  as  it  does,  the  palaces  of  Princes 
Alexander  and  George  of  Prussia,  residences  of  the  Minis- 
ter of  the  Household,  Chancellor  of  the  Empire,  Minister  of 
Justice,  and  other  distinguished  personages. 

At  one  side  of  this  avenue  there  opens  a  handsome  square 
called  the  Wilhehns- Platz,  which  is  elegantly  laid  out  with 
flower-beds,  and  contains  six  handsome  statues  of  distin- 
guished generals  in  the  army  of  Frederick  the  Great,  who 
served  with   him   in  his  most  memorable  campaigns. 

Perambulations  through  Berlin  streets  rendered  a  ride  out 
to  the  Thiergarien  (garden  of  animals)  a  pleasing  variation. 
This  is  the  great  pleasure-ground  and  park  of  Berlin,  and  is 
two  miles  in  length  by  about  one  in  width,  elegantly  laid  out 
and  finely  shaded  by  grand  old  trees,  and  containing  artifi- 
cial ponds  and  streams,  some  of  which  —  owing,  I  suppose, 
to  the  sluggish  current  of  the  river  Spree,  upon  which  they 
must  depend  —  seemed  to  be  mere  pools  of  green,  stagnant 
slime  ;  but  the  rustic  roads  and  paths  were  pleasant  and 
romantic,  and  were  decorated  here  and  there  with  statues, 
while  along  its  borders  are  some  of  the  most  elegant  resi- 
dences in  the  city.  At  one  extremity  of  the  garden  is  the 
Zoological  Collection,  a  remarkably  fine  one,  excellently 
arranged,  and  containing  at  the  time  of  the  author's  visit  an 
extensive  collection  of  wild  beasts  in  good  condition. 

Driving  from  the  Zoological  Gardens,  we  rode  out  over 
the  Charlottenburg  road  to  that  town,  to  visit  the  beautiful 


MAUSOLEtrjI    AT    CHARLOTTENBUEG.  407 

Mausoleum  of  Frederick  William  III.  and  his  queen  Louise. 
This  is  a  Doric  structure  in  the  palace  garden,  a  beautifully 
laid  out  spot,  and  is  approached  through  an  avenue  of 
sombre  pines.  The  interior  of  the  mausoleum  is  sheathed 
with  rich  marbles,  and  in  the  centre  are  the  marble  sarco- 
phagi of  the  king  and  queen.  They  have  richly  ornamented 
pediment  and  cornices,  the  ends  being  supported  by  an 
eagle,  the  royal  shield  with  eagle  and  crown  placed  at  the 
sides,  and  handsomely  carved  pillars  at  the  four  corners. 
Upon  marble  couches  at  the  top  rest  the  recumbent  figures 
of  the  royal  pair,  most  beautiful  specimens  of  artistic  sculp- 
ture. 

Queen  Louise,  who  died  at  the  age  of  thirtj'-five,  is  rep- 
resented as  lying  with  a  loose  sheet  thrown  over  her  figure, 
while  her  head,  with  the  tiara  which  sets  off  her  beautiful 
face  so  well,  rests  on  the  pillow,  and  her  hands  are  crossed 
upon  the  breast.  It  is  an  exquisite  representation  of  this 
beautiful  woman.  Her  full-length  portrait  is  in  the  Royal 
Palace  at  Berlin,  and  will  none  the  less  fail  to  excite  the 
spectator's  admiration.  All  the  details  of  this  fine  sculpture 
are  so  faithfully  executed,  that,  in  the  subdued  halo  of  deli- 
cately purpled  light  that  falls  down  upon  the  figure  like  an 
atmosphere  which  is  perfumed  with  a  faint  fragrance  of 
flowers,  the  spectator  is  half  in  doubt  if  the  careless  folds  of 
the  translucent  drapery,  which  reveals  even  the  shape  of  the 
nails  upon  the  feet  and  the  graceful  contour  of  the  body, 
will  not  be  blown  aside  by  the  gentle  breeze  that  sweeps  in 
from  the  garden.  The  king's  figure,  also  recumbent,  is  in 
military  uniform,  and  folded  in  his  military  cloak,  and  is  a 
splendid  piece  of  workmanship. 

Both  of  these  figures  were  executed  by  the  sculptor 
Rauch,  who  is  to  Berlin  what  Schwanthaler  was  to  Munich, 
or  Thorwaldsen  to  Denmark.  His  works  and  designs  are 
among  the  most  prominent  in  Berlin,  and  Queen  Louise  was 
his  royal  patron  when  living.  This  statue  of  her  is  said  to 
be  his  masterpiece,  and  he  spent  fifteen  j^cars  completing  the 
two  figures. 


408  THE    MUSEUMS    OF    BERLIN. 

At  the  side  of  each  sarcophagus  stands  an  elegant  can- 
delabrum ;  one  is  ornamented  with  sculptui'cd  figures  of  the 
Three  Fates,  by  Rauch,  and  the  other  executed  by  Tieck, 
with  the  tliree  Horce,  —  goddesses  who  gave  to  a  state  good 
laws,  justice,  and  peace.  Around  the  cornice  of  the  temple 
are  appropriate  extracts  from  Scripture.  This  royal  pair, 
who  possessed  many  excellent  traits  of  character,  and  were 
thorough  Protestants,  died  sincerely  lamented  by  the  whole 
nation. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

It  will  require  some  patience,  if  the  tourist  has  already 
visited  the  Vatican,  the  galleries  of  Dresden  and  Munich, 
and  maybe  some  others,  to  give  the  museums  at  Berlin  the 
attention  they  deserve :  first,  because  the  collection  of 
paintings  is  not  equal  in  extent,  value,  or  historical  celebrity 
to  those  we  have  already  seen ;  and,  secondly,  because  in  the 
Museum  of  Art  and  Sculpture  the  objects  are  but  different 
specimens  of  those  we  have  already  seen  elsewhere,  or  casts 
of  great  original  works  of  antiquity.  This  last  feature, 
however,  is  by  no  means  to  be  despised,  and  good  casts  of 
the  great  works  of  sculpture  in  the  world  are,  as  is  well 
known,  of  genuine  service  to  the  art  student,  and  also  even 
to  the  mere  curiosity-seeker  or  casual  visitor,  as  an  educator 
of  the  taste  and  the  eye,  so  that  when  he  looks  upon  the 
grand  original  he  is  the  better  prepared  to  appreciate  and 
enjoy  it. 

The  museums  in  Berlin  are  known  as  the  Old  Museum 
and  the  New  Museum.  The  old  is  comparatively  a  modern 
affair,  as  it  was  finished  in  1828,  in  the  reign  of  Frederick 
William  III.  It  is  connected  with  the  New  Museum  by  a 
passage  gallery.     The  entrance  and  front  of  the  Old  Museum 


ALLEGORICAL    ILLUSTRATIONS.  409 

are  adorned  by  Kiss's  statue  of  the  Amazon  attacked  by  a 
Tiger,  and  the  Horseman  and  Lion  1  have  already  described  ; 
but  after  passing  up  the  grand  flight  of  steps  we  come  to 
the  grand  portico,  which  is  elegantly  decorated  with  wall- 
paintings  of  mythological  or  allegorical  subjects. 

At  one  side  is  Uranus,  represented  as  seated,  with  the 
stars  as  graceful  couples  dancing  about  him,  while  a  great 
rainbow  spans  the  sky  ;  and  the  zodiac  with  its  twelve  con- 
stellations stretches  around.  Then  we  have  representations 
of  Jupiter  creating  Light ;  Prometheus  lighting  his  Torch  by 
Jupiter's  lightning-flashes  ;  Art,  Love,  and  Labor  ;  War 
with  his  spear,  and  Peace  with  her  palm  ;  Nymphs  welcom- 
ing the  approach  of  light;  Venus,  the  star  of  the  morning, 
preceding  the  Sun  ;  and  the  great  Sun-god  himself  in  his 
chariot  rising  from  the  sea. 

Turning  to  the  right,  we  find  that  the  artists  have  made 
human  life  their  subject  in  its  four  epochs,  as  represented  by 
the  four  Seasons.  Spring,  the  first,  shows  us  a  sibyl  writing  ; 
pastoral  tribes  and  herds  ;  the  Muse  and  Psyche  stringing- 
the  poet's  lyre,  &c.,  — a  well-executed  fresco,  but  showing 
a  poverty  of  illustration  of  so  prolific  a  subject.  Next  is 
Summer,  the  noon  of  life,  which  is  represented  by  the  har- 
vest ;  a  nymph  offering  a  cup  to  a  warrior  ;  Pegasus  spring- 
ing from  the  top  of  Mount  Helicon  ;  a  youth  and  maiden, 
nymphs  and  poet  ;  shepherd  playing  on  a  flute,  showing, 
maybe,  artistic  skill,  but  requiring  a  stretch  of  imagination  or 
very  thorough  artistic  education  to  satisfy  one  that  it  is  a 
good  allegory  of  life's  noon  or  summer  as  it  is  set  down 
to  be. 

Autumn,  or  Evening,  is  represented  by  the  vintage ; 
young  men  gatliering  grapes  and  pressing  them  under  the 
direction  of  an  old  man  ;  a  mother  with  her  child  at  the  fire- 
side ;  art  developed  by  the  sculptor  ;  heroes  returning  victo- 
rious, &c.  AVinter,  or  Night,  shows  us  the  Muses  dancing 
before  Old  Age  ;  an  old  man  studying  the  starry  heavens  ;  a 
sailor  pulling  his  boat  out  to  sea,  encouraged  by  the  Muses  ; 


410  GALLERY    OF    GODS    AXD    HEROES. 

and  farther  on  we  have  the  grave  with  mourning'  relatives, 
and  beyond  that,  genii  of  light,  hailing  a  new  day. 

Beneath  these  extensive  allegorical  representations,  which 
are  from  the  pencils  of  Stiirmer,  Schadow,  and  other  emi- 
nent artists,  are  fourteen  pictures  of  the  Myths  of  Theseus 
and  Hercules,  including  representations  of  the  familiar  stories 
of  Theseus  killing  the  Centaur,  Hercules  killing  the  Neraean 
lion,  fetching  the  Hesperidean  fruit,  and  subduing  the  horses 
of  Diomedes. 

But  let  us  go  inside  the  Museum,  which  is  done  by  as- 
cending a  grand  flight  of  steps  or  staircase  leading  from 
here  to  the  vestibule.  Here  stands  a  metal  cop}^  of  the 
great  Warwick  vase,  on  the  right  and  left  of  which  are  two 
granite  pillars,  one  having  the  figure  of  Victory  and  the 
other  Apollo  on  its  summit.  The  walls  are  decorated  with 
frescos  representing  barbarous  and  peaceful  life.  After 
leaving  the  vestibule,  the  visitor  finds  himself  in  the  grand 
rotunda  of  the  museum,  a  large  circular  hall  fifty  or  sixty 
feet  in  height,  and  crowned  by  a  glass  cupola.  Between 
the  columns  which  uphold  the  gallery  above,  are  eighteen 
ancient  statues  of  Jupiter,  ^Esculapius,  Minerva,  Juno,  &c., 
and  two  great  bathing-tubs  from  the  Baths  of  Diocletian  at 
Kome. 

Crossing  from  here,  we  enter  a  great  gallery'  of  sculpture, 
known  as  the  Gallery  of  Gods  and  Heroes.  This,  altliough 
it  contains  upwards  of  a  thousand  specimens,  will  interest 
those  who  have  visited  the  Vatican  at  Rome  but  little,  as 
there  are  but  few  figures  that  are  of  any  great  celebrity  or 
value.  Notwithstanding  this,  as  specimens  of  ancient  art 
and  antiquity,  the  visitor  will  probably  find  much  that  is 
worthy  of  notice.  Among  those  that  1  find  pencilled  down  in 
my  note-book  are  a  figure  of  a  girl  sitting  and  playing  with 
dice  ;  two  superb  figures  of  athletes  in  the  attitude  of  shoot- 
ing, and  an  exquisite  figure  of  Apollo  and  four  of  the 
Muses  ;  the  figure  of  Polyhymnia,  a  beautiful  draped  statue  ; 
a  bronze  figure   of  a  boy  praying,  which  was   found  in  the 


HALL    OF    THE    EMPERORS.  411 

river  Tiber  and  purchased  by  Frederick  the  Great  for  seven 
thousand  five  liundred  dollars  ;  Apollo  and  Mercury  ;  Cupid 
bending  his  bow  ;  Bacchus  with  his  panther  ;  Roman  Gladia- 
tor ;  Satyr  and  Hermaphrodite,  and  several  fine  busts  of 
mythological  deities.  Opening  out  of  the  great  Sculpture 
Hall  are  two  lesser  ones  :  the  Greek  cabinet,  and  the  Etius- 
can-Roman  cabinet. 

The  walls  of  the  Grecian  cabinet  are  adorned  with 
paintings  representing  Greek  life  from  birth  to  the  hour  of 
death  :  the  plays  of  the  child,  sports  and  joys  of  youth, 
occupations  of  man,  and  lastly  the  funeral  procession,  suc- 
ceeded by  the  barge  of  Charon  ready  to  convey  the  soul 
across  the  river  St3'x.  This  cabinet  contains  some  fine 
specimens  of  Greek  sculpture  and  antiquities.  The  Etruscan 
cabinet  has  its  walls  painted  in  imitation  of  the  walls  of  the 
tombs  at  Tarquinii,  and  contains  many  interesting  remains 
of  Etruscan  funeral  monuments,  such  as  coffin-chests,  one 
of  alabaster  on  which  was  sculptured  a  battle-scene  ;  a 
sarcophagus  with  a  representation  of  Achilles  mourning, 
sculptured  upon  the  top ;  altars  and  Roman  remains  of 
similar  description. 

Opening  at  one  end  of  the  ITall  of  Gods  and  Heroes  is  the 
Hall  of  the  Emperors,  so  called  for  its  containing  a  large 
number  of  busts  and  figures  of  Roman  empenu-s,  such  as 
Cgesar,  Vespasian,  Vitellius,  Tiberius,  Caligula,  &c.  ;  in  fact, 
it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  line  of  Ceesars  and  Roman 
emperors  were  here.  There  was  a  grand  colossal  head  of 
Vespasian;  Trajan  represented  as  Jupiter;  Marcus  Aurclius 
as  a  ploughman,  with  a  team  of  bulls  ;  Comraodus  ;  a  red 
jasper  bust  of  Titus  ;  Scipio  Africanus  the  Elder;  Crispina, 
the  wife  of  Commodus  ;  Marciana,  sister  of  Trajan  ;  and 
Plautilla,  wife  of  Caracalla,  —  niore  than  a  hundred  figures 
in  all. 

At  the  opposite  end  of  the  Hall  of  Heroes  opens  the  Hall 
of  Greek,  Roman,  and  Assj'rian  sculptures.  Among  the 
Greek  and  Roman  objects  are  an  antique  copy  of  the  ccle- 


412  THE    ANTIQTTARIUM. 

brated  figure  in  the  Capitoline  Museum  of  a  boy  extracting" 
a  thorn  ;  a  porpliyry  statue  of  Vespasian  ;  Faun  with 
young-  Bacchus ;  an  athlete  in  black  marble ;  a  head  of 
Medusa,  &c.  Of  the  Assyrian  works  there  are  the  great 
gray  marble  or  alabaster  slabs  from  the  walls  of  the  royal 
palaces  of  ancient  Nineveh,  which  were  erected  about 
800  B.  c.  These  are  covered  with  figures  representing 
religious  ceremonies,  warlike  and  hunting  scenes ;  also 
figures  of  demons,  priests,  kings,  and  eunuchs.  One  repre- 
sents two  eunuchs,  with  the  riding  equipage  of  the  king ; 
another  a  procession  ;  a  third  a  collection  of  warriors  and 
eunuchs, — all  interesting  specimens  of  Assyrian  decoration. 

Having  seen  thus  much  of  the  antique,  we  turn  to  a  hall 
opening  out  of  the  Hall  of  the  Emperors,  which  contains  a 
very  pleasing  collection  of  mediaeval  and  modern  sculpture, 
including  what  is  said  to  be  the  best  existing  likeness  of  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  I.,  a  statue  of  him  as  a  Koman  emperor 
executed  by  Chaudet,  also  the  first  original  of  Canova  — 
a  Hebe. 

Descending  to  the  next  story,  let  us  visit  what  is  known 
as  the  Antiquarium,  which  is  a  most  interesting  portion  of 
the  Museum,  especially  to  students.  This  is  divided  into 
collections  of  gems,  coins,  antique  objects  of  metal  of  house- 
hold and  daily  use  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  terra- 
cotta articles,  and  a  splendid  collection  of  antique  clay 
vases,  containing  about  two  thousand  specimens.  These 
clay  vases  and  vessels  are  chiefly  from  central  and  lower 
Italy,  and  from  Greece  and  the  Greek  islands.  They  were 
generally  those  placed  as  gifts  for  the  dead  or  in  their  honor 
in  the  tombs,  where  they  were  arranged  about  the  corpse. 
These  vases  are  important  on  account  of  their  variety 
of  form  and  grace  of  model,  and  also  as  being  the  only 
remnants  that  have  been  preserved  of  antique  paintings. 

Here  are,  for  instance,  vases  whose  models  are  used  in 
our  own  time,  but  which  were  moulded  by  the  potter's 
hands  four  centuries  before  our  Saviour  came  into  the  world. 


CLASSIC    ANTIQUITIES.  413 

These  beautiful  vases,  with  figures  telling  the  stones  of 
Grecian  mythology,  are  from  the  artistic  touches  of  the 
workmen  of  Corinth,  where  the  art  twenty-five  hundred 
years  ago  attained  its  highest  perfection  ;  and  the  per- 
fection of, Greek  art  is  also  seen  in  the  black  vases  with 
red  figures  representing  festal  processions,  battles,  and  the 
chase. 

I  cannot  enumerate  even  the  principal  objects  in  this 
extensive  collection,  so  many  surprise  you  as  works  of 
ancient  art  by  their  being  so  similar  to  modern  productions. 
Here  are  some  ampliorae  (vases  with  two  handles),  with 
paintings  of  the  Judgment  of  Paris,  the  Deliverance  of 
Prometheus,  Hercules  and  Lion,  and  Bacchanalian  revels. 
Another  collection  of  red  figures  in  a  background  gives  us 
pictorial  representations  of  the  Rape  of  Europa,  Hercules  in 
the  Garden  of  the  Ilesperides,  and  Apollo  with  the  Lyre.  A 
third  collection  of  very  large-sized  vases  had  among  them 
those  decorated  with  figures  of  Apollo  and  the  Muses, 
Vulcan  and  his  Forge,  the  Education  of  Achilles,  Hercules 
and  Omphale,  &c. 

The  collection  of  antique  objects  of  metal  is  an  exceed- 
ingly interesting  one,  and  belongs,  with  a  very  few  excep- 
tions, to  the  classical  nations  of  antiquity,  Greeks,  Romans, 
and  Etruscans,  and  gives  one  something  of  an  insight  into 
their  domestic  life,  religious  ceremonies,  and  customs  of  war. 

As  mentioned  in  my  in.>pection  of  the  Etruscan  antiquities 
at  Rome,  the  articles  of  ancient  jewelry  and  ornamentation 
show  a  refined  taste  in  art  upon  which  very  little  advance 
seems  to  have  been  made,  as  our  artists  and  jewellers  are 
using  the  same  patterns  and  models  to-day.  Indeed,  it 
seems  artistic  taste  was  consulted  even  in  the  production 
of  such  articles  of  household  use  as  saucepans,  lamps,  and 
shovels.  This  collection  also  contains  an  interesting  variety 
of  ancient  weapons  of  war,  such  as  helmets,  swords,  daggers, 
and  shields,  the  originals  of  what  you  see  in  Flaxman's 
illustrations  of  Homer. 


414       BEAUTIFUL    SPECIMENS    OF    ANCIEXT    ^VORKMANSHIP. 

A  fragment  of  Etruscan  g-old  cnirass  ;  a  victor's  laurel 
wreath,  thirty  leaves  wroug-ht  in  pure  gold ;  a-  beautiful 
wreath  of  golden  olive-leaves  (just  think  of  these  specimens 
of  the  jeweller's  art  two  thousand  years  ago)  ;  a  diadem 
and  bracelets  of  gold  ;  a  necklace  set  with  two  hundred  and 
eighty  garnets ;  engraved  gold  bracelets  ;  a  clasp  of  gold 
and  crystals  ;  a  silver  ring,  with  the  head  of  the  Emperor 
Alexander  Severus  cut  in  onyx  ;  silver  drinking-goblet ;  the 
Three  Graces  in  pressed  silver,  and  numerous  rings,  brace- 
lets, and  necklaces  of  great  beauty  of  design  and  elegance 
of  finish. 

The  articles  of  houseliold  use  and  weapons  of  war,  Avhich 
are  of  equal,  if  not  exceeding,  interest  to  the  gold  and 
silver  ornaments,  are  chiefly  of  bronze,  iron,  and  lead. 
Here  are  chandeliers  or  candelabra  formed  like  little  trees ; 
an  ash-pan  with  a  figure  of  Apollo  for  its  handle  ;  plates ; 
toys  with  artistic  handles  ;  spoons  ;  and  the  medicine-chest 
of  a  Roman  physician,  on  the  lid  of  which  is  the  figure  of 
^sculapius  inlaid  with  silver,  and  inside  of  which  are 
curious  antique  medical  and  surgical  instruments  of  the 
owner's  time. 

Of  the  less  precious  metals  the  articles  were  very  inter- 
esting. Here,  for  instance,  was  tlie  round  shield  and  breast- 
plate of  an  Etruscan  warrior  ;  swords  of  various  forms,  and 
some  of  graceful  and  beautiful  design  ;  harness  for  chariot 
and  horses  ;  dishes,  basins,  scales  and  weights,  bolts  and 
locks,  tankards  and  drinking-cups. 

There  was  a  curious  collection  of  Etruscan  mirrors  of 
polished  metal  adorned  with  inscriptions,  images  of  gods 
and  heroes,  and  scenes  of  practical  life.  There  are  one 
hundred  and  forty  of  these  mirrors,  and  the  workmanship 
upon  some  of  them  is  elaborate  and  artistic. 

The  Collection  of  Gems  concludes  the  rooms  devoted  to 
the  Antiquarium.  This  was  quite  a  collection  in  the  seven- 
teenth centur}^  and  was  added  largely  to  by  Frederick  the 
Great  as  well  as  his  successors,  so  that  now  it  contains  over 


ANCIKNT    GEMS.  415 

five  thousand  specimens,  of  which  more  than  one  quarter 
are  gems  set  in  gold  rings  and  medallions. 

The  art  of  cutting  precious  stones  reaches  back  to  remote 
antiquit}^ :  the  Hebrews  were  familiar  with  it,  and,  as  is 
well  known,  the  ancient  Egyptians  and  Babylonians  cut 
hieroglyphics  into  stones,  or  carved  the  scarabceus  (sacred 
beetle)  from  stone,  to  wear  as  amulets ;  and  among  the 
Greeks  it  was  a  cultivated  art,  attaining  its  highest  perfec- 
tion in  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great,  and  in  his  reign  and 
those  of  his  successors,  gems  were  worn  as  ornaments. 

The  rarest  of  the  ancient  gems  in  this  collection  are 
exhibited  in  glass  cases,  and  others  are  kept  in  presses 
which  are  accessible  to  the  student  or  antiquarian  who  may 
desire  to  examine  them.  They  are  divided  into  various 
classes.  First  is  the  Egyptian  or  Oriental  style,  from  the 
finest  period  of  Egyptian  art  down  to  a.  d.  300,  and  com- 
mencing with  an  excellent  cutting  of  a  sacred  falcon,  with 
Osiris'  crown  cut  in  sardonyx,  and  including  cuttings  in 
agate,  carnelian,  and  jasper.  Then  came  Grecian  and 
Etruscan  gems,  among  which  were  cuttings  in  carnelian  of 
Cadmus  fighting  the  Dragon,  and  Neptune  and  his  Dolphins 
in  amethyst.  Then  the  Greek  and  Roman  gods  ;  cuttings 
dating  from  three  hundred  years  before  to  three  hundred 
after  Christ,  including  a  splendid  head  of  Jupiter  in  car- 
nelian, head  of  Ceres  in  agate  onyx  —  Actaeon  surprising 
the  bathing  Diana,  Genius  of  Youth  in  lapis-lazuli.  There 
were  also  other  classifications,  including  representations 
of  Greek  and  Roman  heroes,  historical  representations, 
animals,  &c. 

In  the  collection  of  antique  cameos  was  an  onyx  eight  and 
a  half  inches  long  and  seven  broad,  on  which  was  cut  an 
apotheosis  of  the  Emperor  Septimius  Severus,  and  which  was 
purchased  for  this  collection  for  nine  thousand  dollars. 
Another  onyx,  illustrating  the  birth  of  one  of  the  Ctesars, 
found  in  a  Roman  tomb  near  Cologne,  was  sold  by  the 
finder  to  a  German  jeweller  for  about  seventy-five  cents  (our 


416  ANTIQUE   COINS. 

money),  but  tho  king  subsequently  caused  him  to  be  paid 
one  thousand  dollars  for  it. 

In  tho  Hall  of  Gems,  the  antiquarian  or  numismatist  will 
have  a  rich  treat  in  the  inspection  of  the  Collection  of  Coins, 
which  number  nearly  one  hundred  thousand,  in  gold,  silver, 
and  copper.  Of  these,  forty  thousand  are  antique  pieces, 
principally  Greek  and  Roman  coins,  the  Greek  coins  being 
arranged  geographically  and  the  Roman  ones  chronolog- 
ically. The  visitor  who  desires  to  inspect  intelligently  this 
collection  of  gems,  vases,  or  indeed  any  of  the  treasures  of 
the  Antiquarium,  will  find  it  necessary  to  purchase  one 
of  the  little  local  guide-books,  translated  into  English,  as 
the  regular  guide-books  give  scarcely  any  particulars  of  the 
different  objects,  passing  them  by  as  "a  suite  of  rooms 
containing  terra-cottas  and  vases,"  "  bronzes,  weapons, 
statuettes,  and  domestic  utensils  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans," 
"  Cabinet  of  coins  and  collections  of  gems." 

The  reader,  if  at  all  enthusiastic  in  any  of  these  different 
branches  of  antiques,  may  form  some  idea  of  the  priceless 
value  as  well  as  the  great  interest  of  the  collection  from  the 
few  prominent  objects  hastily  made  note  of  by  the  author  in 
passing.  That  which  is  but  apparently  a  collection  of 
rudely  cut  pebbles  becomes  of  absorbing  interest  when  a 
descriptive  catalogue  spreads  them  out  as  the  seal-rings 
of  the  Pharaohs  and  the  ornaments  of  Roman  emperors  and 
Grecian  warriors  ;  and  the  battered  discs  of  copper,  gold, 
and  silver,  which  might  have  been  hastily  passed  or  never 
sought  out,  we  look  upon  with  curiosity  as  the  early  bronze 
circulating  medium  of  ancient  Rome,  the  gold  of  Greece,  or 
the  golden  money  of  the  Roman  empire. 

Many  of  the  earlier  coins  in  the  numismatic  collection  are 
stamped  witii  simple  emblems,  and  at  a  later  period  with 
representations  of  the  gods,  and  finally  with  effigies  of  the 
kings  or  emperors.  Alexander  the  Great  was  the  first 
among  the  Greeks  who  stamped  his  own  effigy  on  the  coins, 
and  Julius  Cajsar  the  first  among  the  Romans. 


A    TREAT    FOR    A    NUMISMATIST.  417 

Among  the  oldest  European  moneys  exhibited  here  are 
the  coins  of  Etruria,  Spain,  and  Italy  ;  coins  of"  the  tyrant 
Iliero  II.  of  Syracuse,  who  reigned  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  before  Christ  ;  a  fine  collection  of  Grecian  gold 
and  silver  coins  stamped  with  the  effigies  of  the  Macedonian 
kings,  such  as  Philip  II.  and  Alexander  the  Great ;  and  one 
with  the  head  of  Mithridates  VI.  upon  it.  A  collection  of 
curious  Indian  coins  is  shown,  dating  two  hundred  years 
before  Christ ;  also  Persian  royal  coins,  and  Egyptian. 

The  collection  of  RomaTi  coins  is  particularly  rich  and 
interesting.  The  most  ancient  Roman  coin  is  the  "  as," 
which  was  made  as  early  as  the  reign  of  Servius  Tullius, 
five  hundred  and  forty-six  years  before  Christ ;  and  of  this 
coin,  which  is  in  bronze,  there  are  three  or  four ;  also  two  or 
three  specimens  of  the  half  as;  then  came  the  coins  —  gold, 
silver,  and  bronze — of  the  Roman  Republic,  over  one  hundred 
different  specimens,  stamped  with  representations  of  gods 
and  heroes.  Then  a  magnificent  collection  of  imperial 
Roman  coins,  three  hundred  and  seventy-five  in  number, 
stamped  with  the  effigies  of  the  emperors  and  their  relatives. 
The  series  begins  with  coins  of  the  reign  of  Julius  Caesar, 
and  terminates  with  those  of  Constantino  XIV.  in  1453. 

In  addition  to  these  there  are  coins  of  the  Middle  Ages 
and  modern  times  ;  a  collection  of  six  thousand  specimens 
of  Oriental  coins,  including  Mohammedan,  Chinese,  and 
Japanese  specimens ;  and  a  collection  of  seven  thousand 
medals,  which  I  will  not  fatigue  the  reader  with  more  special 
description  of.  Sufficient  allusion  to  this  department  of  the 
Museum  has  been  made  to  indicate  to  the  visitor  interested 
in  the  objects  mentioned  what  he  might  perhaps  otherwise 
pass  by  unnoticed,  but  which  he  may  see  very  thoroughly 
on  application  to  the  custodian,  many  of  the  coins  being 
only  accessible  in  that  manner.  The  same  is  the  case  with 
a  portion  of  the  Collection  of  Gems. 

Another  picture-gallery  journey  is  now  before  the  visitor, 
but  the  collection,  although  a  very  fine  one,  is  not  equal  to 
27 


418  PICTUKE    GALLEEIES    OF    BERLIN. 

several  other  great  galleries  in  Europe,  and  is  often  rather 
hastily  passed  over  by  American  visitors.  The  gallery  in 
the  Old  Museum,  which  is  upon  the  upper  floor,  and  entered 
from  the  rotunda,  is  divided  into  thirty-seven  apartments,  and 
the  classified  into  different  schools  of  art.  Thus,  we  have 
Italian  schools  —  first,  those  of  the  fifteenth  century  (epoch 
of  culture)  ;  and  this  includes  the  Lombardian,  Tuscan, 
Bolognian,  and  Urabrian  schools.  Then  the  Italian  schouls 
from  1500  to  1550  (to  the  "  highest  bloom  "  of  the  art,  as 
they  specify  it)  ;  then  from  1550  to  1590  (epoch  of  decay)  ; 
then  from  1590  to  1770  ("  after  bloom  and  decay").  The 
Dutch,  German,  and  Netherland  schools  are  similarly  ar- 
ranged. 

After  one  becomes  familiar  with  picture  galleries  and  art 
collections  abroad,  he  will  be  continually  finding  reproduc- 
tions of  old  acquaintances  in  the  way  of  statues,  pictures, 
and  celebrated  works  of  art.  Thus,  upon  entering  the  great 
rotunda  here,  he  will  find  hung  upon  the  walls  tlie  familiar 
scenes  of  Raphael's  cartoons  which  he  has  seen  upon  the 
famous  tapestry  in  the  Vatican,  if  he  has  visited  Rome,  and 
also  again  at  Dresden.  This  tapestry,  however,  is  cele- 
brated as  having  been  woven  at  Arras  in  the  sixteenth  ceu- 
tury,  for  that  royal  butcher,  Henry  VIII.,  and  has  been 
in  the  possession  of  the  Emperor  Charles  I.  and  also  the 
Dukes  of  Alva,  and  was  bought  by  Frederick  William  IV. 
for  this  collection  in  1844. 

Passing  from  the  rotunda  to  the  different  rooms,  we  see 
in  the  first  room  the  Venetian  pictures,  the  best  one  be- 
ing that  of  the  body  of  Christ,  supported  by  two  weeping 
angels.  The  pictures  in  the  first  room  are  principally  re- 
ligious subjects.  Through  second,  third,  fourth,  and  fifth 
rooms  you  see  Madonnas,  saints,  and  virgins  till  you  tire  of 
them  ;  and,  at  the  sixth,  you  come  to  pictures  by  Titian,  the 
most  beautiful  being  the  portrait  of  his  daughter  Lavinia. 
Chess  Players,  and  a  Venus,  by  Bordonne,  in  this  room, 
are  beautiful  works  ;   but  the  other   succeeding  rooms   are 


A   WEALTH    OF    ART.  419 

prodigal  in  sacred  subjects,  including-  a  Madonna,  by  Cor- 
reggio  ;  Adoration  of  Shepherds,  by  Ferrari  ;  Madonna  and 
Child,  by  Raphael  ;  and  a  beautiful  picture  of  John  the  Bap- 
tist in  the  Desert,  by  Salviati,  painted  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. In  the  seventeenth  room  I  found  a  landscape,  by 
Claude  Lorraine  ;  Spanish  Woman,  by  Murillo  ;  Shipwreck, 
by  Salvator  Rosa  ;  A  Girl,  by  Greuze,  and  The  Entomb- 
ment, by  Caravaggio, 

What  is  considered  the  great  work  in  the  collection  in  the 
Old  Museum  are  twelve  paintings  on  six  panels,  which  were 
executed  for  two  distinguished  families  for  an  altar-piece  in 
their  chapel  in  the  Church  of  St.  John,  at  Ghent,  by  John 
Van  Eyck  and  Hans  Holbein,  pupils  of  Albrecht  Diirer. 
These  panels  are  interesting  as  having  a  story.  There  were 
thirteen  of  them  originally,  and  they  were  stolen  from  the 
church  by  the  French  ;  the  six  that  are  here  wei'e  pur- 
chased of  a  dealer,  into  whose  hands  they  fell,  for  one  hun- 
dred thousand  thalers,  or  about  seventy-five  thousand  dollars 
of  our  money.  The  pictures  represent  the  just  Judges,  the 
Chanipions  of  Clirist,  singing  and  playing  angels,  hermits, 
and  pilgrims.  When  this  altar-piece  is  closed,  the  pictures 
upon  the  reversed  side,  which  are  equally  beautiful,  are 
presented. 

There  are  in  this  gallery  of  the  Old  Museum  over  twelve 
hundred  specimens  of  pictures  ;  and  an  indication  of  its 
value  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  it  contains,  besides 
the  works  of  artists  already  mentioned,  specimens  of  those 
of  Snyder,  —  Combat  of  Bear  and  Dogs  ;  Ruysdael's  land- 
scapes and  sea-pieces ;  Tenier's  Peasants  at  Cards,  and 
Temptation  of  Anthony  ;  Cuyp's  landscapes;  Gerard  Duow's 
beautifully  finished  figures  ;  Rubens's  Three  Cavaliers  ;  por- 
traits, &c., —  Van  Dycks,  Jean  Mabeuse,  Hans  Holbein,  and 
Wouvermans. 

Leaving  the  Old  Museum,  you  pass  through  a  passage,  or 
sort  of  arcade,  which  connects  it  with  the  new  structure, 
and  find  yourself  in   a  grand,  lofty,  circular  saloon,  called 


420  KAULBACIl's    FRESCOS. 

the  Roman  Cupola  Saloon,  which  is  elegantly  decorated 
with  large  fresco  paintings,  the  two  principal  of  which  are 
the  Subjugation  of  Wittekind,  King  of  the  Saxons,  by 
Charlemagne,  and  the  adoption  of  Christianity  as  the  re- 
ligion of  the  state.  These  give  you  an  introduction  to  Kaul- 
bach's  grand  artistic  creations  (with  which  the  visitor  will 
soon  be  better  acquainted),  they  being  painted,  after  de- 
signs by  the  great  artist,  by  Griif  and  Stilke,  and  are  filled 
with  spirited  figures  illustrative  of  their  subjects. 

Passing  from  here,  we  enter  the  Mediaeval  Saloon,  an 
apartment  with  nine  cupolas,  and  decorated  with  portraits 
of  the  German  Emperors,  each  surrounded  with  four- 
cornered  pictures,  representing  German  cities.  This  saloon 
contains  casts  of  celebrated  sculpture  decorations  in  Eu- 
ropean churches  of  the  time  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  and  from 
it  we  enter  what  is  called  the  Modern  Art  Saloon,  the  ceil- 
ing of  which  is  elegantly  decorated  with  fresco  paintings, 
representing  Industry  and  Trade,  as  tlie  art  of  engine-build- 
ing, forging  iron  and  weapons,  mining,  painting,  sculpture, 
commerce,  agriculture. 

We  now  come  opposite  the  grand  staircase  of  the  New 
Museum,  which  occupies  the  entire  height  of  the  building, 
and  is  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  feet  in  depth,  —  a  magnifi- 
cent pie«e  of  work.  A  single  flight  of  stairs,  of  Silesian 
marble,  leads  from  the  ground-floor  to  the  first  story,  and 
then  a  double  one  from  the  first  to  the  second  story. 

The  copy  of  Old  Father  Nile  (original  at  the  Vatican), 
in  the  vestibule,  the  grand  figures  of  the  horse-tamers,  and 
the  four  Caryatides,  where  the  double  staircases  join,  tend 
to  give  additional  effect  to  this  grand  hall ;  but  its  chief  and 
great  attraction  are  the  magnificent  frescos,  or  mural  paint- 
ings, designed  by  Kaulbach,  which  adorn  it.  These  celebrated 
tableaux  consist  of  six  grand  principal  ones,  filled  with  life- 
size  figures,  illustrating  great  epochs  in  history ;  and  about 
them,  in  the  intermediate  spaces,  are  sixteen  other  pictures, 
the  whole   being    surrounded  by   graceful    allegorical  ara- 


AGE    OF    THE    REFORMATION.  421 

besque,    or  frieze,  also   designed    by  Kaiilbach,  exhibiting 
the  history  and  culture  of  mankind  from  Chaos  to  Humboldt. 

These  magnificent  works  of  art,  although  modern,  fairly 
rival  some  of  the  grandest  works  of  the  old  masters  :  most 
of  them  are  already  quite  familiar  to  Americans,  from  the 
excellent  reproductions  we  have  of  them  in  engravings  ; 
but,  to  get  the  full  efi'ect  of  the  artist's  work,  it  is  almost 
needless  for  me  to  say  one  should  look  upon  the  original 
pictures  in  this  grand  hall. 

There  is  the  familiar  one  of  the  "Age  of  the  Reforma- 
tion," with  the  noble  central  figure  of  Luther  standing  upon 
the  topmost  step  of  the  altar,  lifting  with  both  hands  his 
translation  of  the  Bible  high  above  his  head.  Near  bj'^  is  Cal- 
vin, also  Zwingle,  the  reformer  of  Switzerland  ;  and  at  differ- 
ent points  in  the  great  pictui'e  are  Gustavus  Adolphus,  king 
of  Sweden,  in  full  armor  ;  William  of  Orange,  and  Admiral 
Coligny  (slain  on  St.  Bartholomew's  day) ;  Wickliffe  ;  Queen 
Elizabeth  ;  Archbishop  Cranmer  ;  Copernicus,  expounding  his 
system  ;  Galileo  ;  Tycho  Brahe,  disputing  with  Kepler  ;  John 
Guttenberg,  holding  his  first  printed  sheet ;  Columbus,  with 
his  hand  on  the  globe  ;  Leonardo  da  Vinci  ;  Shakspeare  ; 
Cervantes ;  Michael  Angelo  ;  and  others,  —  all  being  por- 
traits of  celebrated  persons  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries,  who  contributed  in  any  way  towards  the  great 
movement  of  the  Reformation,  and  forming  a  splendid  pic- 
torial historical  group. 

"  The  Crusaders  before  Jerusalem  "  gives  that  stanch  old 
warrior  of  the  Cross,  Geoflfre}^  de  Bouillon,  as  King  of  Jeru- 
salem, mounted  upon  his  white  charger,  holding  forward  the 
crown  of  Jerusalem  to  tlie  vision  of  Christ  and  the  saints  in 
the  heavens,  while  he  places  the  crown  of  thorns  upon  his 
own  head.  The  friar,  Peter  of  Amiens,  kneeling,  stretches 
his  hands  towards  the  heavenly  group  ;  slain  Saracens,  that 
have  fallen  before  the  crusaders'  weapons,  are  upon  the 
ground.  Tancred  and  other  knights,  singers  and  minstrels, 
make  up  the  composition. 


422  TOWER    OF    BABEL. 

The  most  classical  and  allegorical  of  the  paintings  is  that 
of  "Homer  and  the  Greeks."  The  poet  standing  upriglit, 
lyre  in  hand,  in  a  barge  rowed  by  the  Sibyl,  is  approaching 
the  coast  of  Greece.  Thetis  and  the  Nereids  are  rising 
from  the  waves  about  his  bark  to  listen  to  his  singing  ;  and 
on  the  shore  are  assembled  Grecian  artists,  sculptors,  ora- 
tors, and  poets,  to  welcome  his  coming,  — ^scliylus,  Sopho- 
cles, and  Euripides.  In  the  foreground,  on  the  beach,  are 
Pericles  and  his  pupil  Alcibiades  ;  behind  stands  Solon, 
with  his  law  tablets.  At  the  left  is  the  Parthenon,  in  course 
of  erection.  Above,  upon  a  rainbow  in  the  clouds,  are 
gods  and  goddesses  of  mythology,  —  Jupiter  and  Juno  en- 
throned, Apollo,  and  the  Three  Graces.  Beneath,  the  smoke 
from  a  sacrificial  altar  ascends  to  these  deities,  and  around 
the  altar  a  group  of  Grecian  youths  are  dancing.  Phidias, 
engaged  in  sculpturing  the  statue  of  Achilles,  and  other 
figures,  make  up  the  grouping  of  this  great  fresco. 

The  "  Destruction  of  the  Tower  of  Babel  "  is  a  grand 
work,  where,  from  the  clouds  above,  Jehovah  is  represented 
as  looking  down  upon  the  ruin  of  Ninirod's  Tower. 
The  king  himself  sits  upon  his  throne,  defying  the  mightier 
Power,  despite  the  pleadings  of  his  wife,  who  clings  to  his 
knees.  Idols  are  tumbling  from  their  pedestals,  the  slaves 
of  the  Tower  rising  in  rebellion  and  stoning  their  masters  ; 
the  great  Tower  stands  unfinished.  Separated  into  three 
great  divisions,  the  races  emigrate,  —  the  races  of  Shem, 
Ham,  and  Japheth.  The  tribe  of  Shem  drives  away  its 
flocks,  and  is  blessed  by  its  patriarch,  who  stands  with  out- 
stretched arms.  The  tribe  of  Ham  represents  tlie  African 
races  ;  and  their  priest,  riding  upon  a  buffalo,  embraces  his 
idol,  while  a  woman  kisses  the  hem  of  his  garment.  The 
Japhethites,  founders  of  the  Caucasian  race,  ride  away  on 
fiery  horses,  the  first  rider  being  said  to  represent  the  Hel- 
lenes, and  the  second  the  Germans. 

The  "  Destruction  of  Jerusalem  "  is  a  familiar  picture  to- 
day in  the  windows  of  our  print-shops,  —  the  tall,  central 


BATTLE    OF    THE    HUXS.  423 

figure,  the  high-priest,  piercing  his  bosom  with  a  dagger, 
with  his  wife  and  children  at  his  feet,  entreating  a  like  fate 
lest  they  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Roman  conquerors. 

The  prophets  who  prophesied  the  destruction  of  Jerusa- 
lem are  seen  in  the  clouds  above,  looking  down  upon  Titus 
and  his  legions,  who  are  entering  into  the  sacred  cit}', 
whose  burning  temple  and  crumbling  ruins  show  that  the 
destruction  foretold  has  begun  ;  while  the  flying  Jews,  frantic 
women,  helpless  children,  and  priests,  the  wandering  Jew 
starting  forth  on  his  endless  journey,  go  to  make  up  the 
grand  effects  of  the  picture. 

The  other  great  fresco  is  the  spectral  Battle  of  the  Iluns, 
and  exhibits  a  splendidly  grouped  collection  of  figures  in 
vigorous  action,  designed  as  an  allegorical  representation 
of  Paganism  against  Christianity.  Rome  is  seen  in  the  back- 
ground ;  in  the  foreground  is  the  battle-scene  designed  to 
represent  the  spot  v/here  the  devastating  hordes  met  their 
first  repulse  at  the  battle  of  Chalons-sur-Marne,  where  the 
battle  was  so  fierce  that,  as  the  legend  runs,  the  dead  rose 
in  the  night  to  continue  it ;  and  it  is  this  scene  the  artist 
has  represented.  Warriors  are  arising,  groping  for  and 
seizing  their  weapons  ;  in  the  clouds  above,  upon  a  shield 
supported  by  his  soldiers,  is  Attila,  king  of  the  Huns,  "the 
scourge  of  God,"  brandishing  his  scourge  in  encouragement 
to  his  troops,  while  the  Christians  rally  round  the  Cross,  as 
their  sacred  symbol,  or  under  the  leadership  of  Theodoric, 
king  of  the  Visigoths,  rush  bravely  to  battle  with  their 
fierce  opponents.  This  grand  battle-scene  is  thought  by 
many  to  be  the  finest  of  the  series  ;  it  may  be  for  spirited 
action  in  the  representation  of  the  figures,  but  for  quiet, 
satisfactory^  study,  "Homer  and  the  Greeks,"  and  "The 
Age  of  the  Reformation,"  will  divide  the  student's  attention. 

Each  one  of  these  mural  paintings  about  the  grand  stair- 
case hall  is  surrounded  bj-  appropriate  marginal  paintings  of 
small  dimensions.  That  of  the  Destruction  of  Jerusalem 
has  scenes  from  Jewish   and    R(jman  history  ;    that  of  the 


424  THE   GKEEK    SALOON". 

Battle  of  the  Huns,  scenes  from  Northern  and  Oriental  my- 
tholog-y,  &c.  This  superb  approach  to  tlie  interior  of  the 
New  Museum  is  remarkably  beautiful  and  appropriate,  both 
in  point  of  art  and  architecture. 

1  have  referred  to  the  Roman  Cupola,  mediaeval  and  mod- 
ern art  saloons  passed  through  on  the  route  to  the  grand 
staircase.  There  are  upon  this  same  floor  nine  other  halls 
devoted  to  the  collection  of  casts  of  celebrated  objects  of 
antiquity.  These  halls  are  named  from  the  nature  of  their 
contents  :  as  the  Niobe  Saloon,  which  contains  the  group  of 
the  children  of  Niobe,  taken  from  the  tympanum  of  a  temple 
of  Apollo.  This  hall  is  superbly  frescoed  with  Grecian  bat- 
tle and  mythological  scenes,  and  among  its  most  prominent 
contents  are  copies  of  the  Dying  Gladiator,  the  Fighting 
Gladiator,  and  Quoit-Thrower,  besides  other  copies  which 
we  linger  over  a  few  moments,  as  they  serve  more  vividly  to 
bring  up  the  great  originals  before  us. 

Another  saloon,  known  as  the  Greek  Saloon,  is  rich  in 
frescos,  and  contains  ten  fine  wall  paintings  :  such  as  a  rep- 
resentation of  Ancient  Athens,  the  Acropolis,  Sacred  Gr^ive 
at  Olympia,  Temple  of  Apollo,  &c.,  which  will  bring  back 
memories  of  school  days  and  school  studies  in  which  the 
imagination  had  to  paint  these  scenes,  wliile  the  brain 
puzzled  out  the  construction  of  the  sentences  that  described 
them.  This  hall  contains  groups  from  the  Temple  of  Miner- 
va at  -^gina,  and  sculptures  from  the  Parthenon  at  Athens. 
A  saloon  known  as  the  Greek  Cupola  Saloon  is  adorned 
with  wall-paintings  of  Perseus  rescuing  Andromache,  The- 
seus killing  the  Minotaur,  and  Hercules  seizing  the  Arca- 
dian Stag,  and  contains  casts  of  Grecian  statuary  and  other 
sculpture  of  an  interesting  character, 

The  visitor  who  has  not  made  the  grand  tour,  or  visited 
the  galleries  of  Rome  and  Florence,  will  go  through  these 
twelve  apartments  with  more  interest  than  he  who  has;  but 
the  latter  should  on  no  account  omit  them,  as  they  contain 
very  many  extremely  rare  and  beautiful  objects,  the  collec- 
tion being  augmented  each  year. 


UNKNOWN    ANTIQUITIES.  425 

Instead  of  ascending  the  grand  staircase,  wliicli  I  have 
brought  the  reader  before  for  the  purpose  of  viewing  Kaul- 
bach's  cartoons,  we  will  descend  to  the  ground  floor  for  the 
purpose  of  inspecting  the  Hall  of  Northern  Antiquities  and 
Ethnographical  Collection.  The  former  hall  is  decorated 
with  frescos  of  the  gods  and  goddesses  of  northern  mythol- 
ogy :  Odin  on  his  throne,  and  his  wife  Ilertha,  the  northern 
Juno,  coming  down  to  earth  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  cows, 
scattering  flowers  and  fruits  in  her  pathway  ;  Frey,  the  god 
of  gayety,  riding  on  a  boar ;  Thor,  god  of  thunder, 
flourishing  his  mighty  hammer  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  goats. 
These  paintings  are  on  the  walls  on  both  sides  of  the  hall 
and  over  the  windows,  and  represent  the  principal  points 
of  northern  mythology  as  laid  down  in  the  Icelandic  Book  of 
Heroes. 

Starting  from  the  entrance,  the  figures  on  the  visitor's  left 
hand  represent  the  gods  of  Darkness  and  Night,  and  those  on 
the  right  the  gods  of  Light.  The  antiquities  contained  in  this 
hall  are  of  the  stone,  bronze,  and  iron  periods,  and  such  as 
have  been  found  from  time  to  time,  I  should  judge,  in  and 
about  Prussia  or  Germany,  for  the  collection  was  not,  at  the 
time  of  the  author's  visit,  either  properly  catalogued,  num- 
bered, or  labelled  ;  and,  although  the  guide-book  gives  but 
four  lines  to  it,  that  is  not  always  to  be  taken  as  an  indica- 
tion of  a  lack  of  importance  or  interest,  in  any  gallery  col- 
lection, locality,  or  sight  abroad,  as  the  readers  of  these 
pages  have  learned  ere  this.  However,  all  we  could  ascer- 
tain was  that  the  urns  and  ash-bowls  on  one  stand  were 
antiquities  found  at  Altniark  ;  another  was  found  near 
Berlin  ;  a  collection  of  little  pitchers  (without  long  ears) 
was  dug  out  in  the  Rhenish  provinces.  But  a  lot  of  vases, 
weapons,  helmets,  bracelets,  battle-hammers,  and  household 
utensils,  although  carefully  labelled  with  Dutch-looking 
characters  as  to  where  they  were  found,  needed  an  antiqua- 
rian or  expert  to  explain,  to  give  most  of  them  interest  be- 
yond that  which  otherwise  would  attach  to  a  collection  of 
old  trash  from  household  dust  heaps. 


426  EGYPTIAN    KEPRODUCTIOJfS. 

The  Ethnographical  Collection  is  a  collection  of  articles 
illustrative  of  the  life,  customs,  and  products  of  different 
nations,  and  is  divided  into  fiv^e  sections,  Europe,  America, 
Asia,  Africa,  and  Australia.  The  Americau  specimens  are 
some  of  Catlin's  Indian  paintings,  Indian  weapons,  garments, 
buffalo  hides,  moccasins,  bows  and  arrows,  porcupine  quills, 
embroidery,  and  similar  objects  familiar  to  all  Americans. 
A  show  of  Peruvian  relics,  weapons,  and  utensils  of  Mexi- 
can and  South  American  Indians  and  ancient  inhabitants,  is 
the  South  American  portion.  The  Asiatic  department  con- 
tains the  Chinese,  Japanese,  and  East  Indian  curiosities 
with  which  all  are  familiar ;  and  the  African,  the  rhinoceros- 
hide  shields,  long  spears,  poisoned  arrows,  gourds,  cala- 
bashes, carved  clubs  and  paddles,  and  other  objects  that 
the  African  travellers  tell  about,  and  so  on,  —  a  collection 
of  no  great  merit  or  interest  compared  with  others  we  have 
to  see. 

The  Berlin  Museum,  like  others,  has  drawn  on  the 
oldest  nation  on  earth  for  a  portion  of  its  attractions,  and 
with  no  small  degree  of  success,  for  the  Egyptian  Collection 
is  quite  an  interesting  one,  and,  moreover,  the  reproduction 
of  ancient  Egyptian  architecture  in  the  arrangement  of  the 
different  halls,  and  the  illustrative  frescos  upon  the  walls, 
heightens  the  effect.  They  also  contribute  a  certain  degree 
of  instruction  as  good  reproductions  and  illustrations  of  the 
subject. 

The  outer  court  or  grand  entrance  to  this  Egyptian 
Museum  is  a  faithful  representation,  on  a  reduced  scale,  of 
the  Egyptian  temple  at  Karnak.  It  is  called  the  Colonnade 
Court  in  the  guide-books,  from  sixteen  pillars  which  sur- 
round it,  which  are  also  reductions  of  the  pillars  at  Karnak. 
Above,  on  the  ornamented  cornice,  is  recorded  by  a  modern 
Eg3'ptian  scholar,  Professor  Lepsius,  in  ancient  Egyptian 
hieroglyphics,  the  fact  that  these  monuments  were  ar- 
ranged by  Frederick  William  IV.,  in  1848.  Done  into  Eng- 
glish,  the  translation  is  as  follows  :  — 


A   MONARCH  1200  B.  C.  42T 

"The  Royal  Sun  Eagle,  the  Avenger  of  Prussia,  Sun  of 
Son,  Frederick  William  IV.,  Philopator  (the  father  lover), 
Euergetes  (benefactor),  Eucharistes  (the  gracious),  loved  by- 
Tot  and  Saf,  the  Victorious  Master  of  the  Rhine  and  Vistula, 
the  Elect  of  Germania,  has  caused  to  be  erected  in  this 
edifice  colossal  figures,  eflSgies,  statues,  and  sculptures, 
stones,  pillars,  coflans,  and  many  other  good  things  brought 
from  Egypt  and  Ethiopia." 

In  the  centre  of  this  atrium  stands  an  altar,  and  on  the 
right  and  left  of  it  are  two  colossal  ram  sphinxes,  with  the 
sun  disc  between  the  horns  ;  and  farther  on,  at  the  continua- 
tion of  the  entrance  hall  at  each  side  of  the  hypostyles,  are 
two  colossal  seated  figures  in  black  porphyry  :  Rameses  II., 
and  another  whose  name  I  do  not  give,  as,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  his  right  leg  and  throne,  he  is  entirely  a  restoration  ; 
while  Rameses,  or  Sesostris,  as  he  is  sometimes  called,  who 
sits  at  the  left,  is  the  original  sculpture  of  Egyptian  chisels, 
■with  the  exception  of  the  beard  and  right  hand,  which 
have  been  restored.  His  name  is  inscribed  upon  his  breast 
and  throne.     He  reigned  twelve  hundred  years  before  Christ. 

All  around  the  walls  of  this  hall  are  stone  tablets,  found  in 
the  tombs  of  Memphis,  which  are  adorned  with  hieroglyph- 
ical  sculptures  of  religious  and  funereal  rites,  &c.  The 
apartment  also  contains  fine  wall-paintings,  for  which  'the 
Berlin  Museum  is  so  famous.  These  were  executed  princi- 
pally by  celebrated  German  artists,  and  represent  the  grand 
works  of  architecture  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  such  as  the 
Memnon  Statue  at  Thebes,  Great  Pyramids  of  Memphis, 
the  Temple  at  Karnak,  the  Temple  at  Edfu,  Temple  in  the 
Isle  of  Phylge,  and  other  scenes  familiar  to  Eastern  travel- 
lers and  readers  of  books  of  Eastern  travel.  The  ceiling 
is  beautifully  decorated  with  astronomical  frescos. 

The  front  of  the  hypostyle  (covered  colonnade)  repre- 
sents the  doorway  of  the  Temple  of  Rameses  II.,  at  Thebes  ; 
at  its  end,  facing  the  visitor,  is  the  colossal  figure  of  King 
Horus.     This   apartment  contains   a   curious   and   valuable 


428  EGTPTIAK   HISTORICAL    HALLS. 

collection  of  papyrus  rolls  found  with  mummies,  which  arc 
decorated  with  pictorial  representations  inscribed  with 
hieroglyphics,  prayers,  and  other  inscriptions.  Here,  also, 
arc  bricks  made  from  Nile  mud,  and  stamped  with  the  name 
of  the  king  in  whose  reign  they  were  manufactured  — a  good 
way  of  handing  one's  name  down  to  posterity. 

We  now  enter  what  is  known  as  the  Historical  Hall,  a 
large  saloon,  with  its  walls  decorated  with  paintings  in 
imitation  of  the  Egyptian  wall-paintings,  and  representing 
battles,  ceremonies,  customs,  hunting  scenes,  and  historical 
events  of  that  ancient  people.  Above  the  wall-paintings 
there  is  a  frieze  of  medallions  containing  the  names  of  the 
ancient  Egyptian  kings,  from  a  very  ancient  one  down  to 
the  Cfesars.  In  this  hall  are  numerous  glass  cases  contain- 
ing ancient  Egyptian  amulets,  gems,  rings,  bodkins,  domes- 
tic utensils,  and  trinkets  ;  also  mummies  of  animals,  birds, 
and  crocodiles,  heads,  arms,  and  other  fragments  of  human 
mummies,  besides  monumental  stones  and  ancient  sculpture. 

A  still  more  ancient  collection  is  that  shown  in  the  Hall 
of  Tombs,  which  contains  monumental  remains  brought  to 
Berlin  by  the  Egyptian  scholar  before  mentioned,  Professor 
Lepsius,  and  which  date  from  two  to  three  thousand  years 
before  Christ.  Here  were  two  huge  granite  blocks,  used  for 
indicating  the  height  of  the  river  Nile,  which  were  two  thou- 
sand years  old  ;  an  ornamental  stone  sarcophagus  of  double 
that  age  ;  fragments  of  tombs  whose  inscriptions  prove  them 
to  have  belonged  to  the  time  of  King  Cheops  ;  stone  tombs 
that  have  been  restored,  giving  the  visitor  an  idea  of  the 
ancient  method  of  sepulture  ;  and  hieroglyphical  tablets  and 
stones  sculptured  with  scenes  of  Egyptian  life. 

The  Mythological  Saloon  is  so  called  from  its  mural 
decorations  representing  the  mythology  of  the  ancient 
Egyptians,  and  the  ceiling  paintings  representing  month 
gods,  zodiac,  and  constellations,  and  contains  a  rich  collec- 
tion of  sarcophagi  and  mummies.  At  the  right  and  left  of 
the  entrance  sit  statues  of  a  lion-headed  goddess  ;  and  the 


"in    THEBES    STREETS  3000  TEARS  AGO."  429 

first  sarcophagus  we  inspected  was  one  of  granite,  the  lid 
being  a  sculptured  representation  of  the  deceased.  Then 
we  came  to  a  well-preserved  mummy,  which  is  kept  in  a 
glass  case.  It  is  that  of  a  young  girl,  who,  the  inscription 
says,  was  named  Hathor,  and  beside  it  is  the  sycamore 
cofiSn  in  which  she  was  found  inclosed.  Among  other 
interesting  sarcophagi  was  a  fine  one  of  black  porphyry, 
which  had  inclosed  a  famous  Egyptian  general  named 
Pelisis,  and  another  in  granite  of  one  named  Nechtnif,  whose 
commands  had  fought,  bled,  and  died,  as  well  as  them- 
selves, almost  before, 

"  Antiquity  appears  to  have  begun." 

Of  the  mummies,  the  two  most  interesting  are  that  of  one 
unrolled  showing  its  arndets  of  gold,  as  when  laid  in  the 
tomb,  and  another  which  was  in  a  wooden  sarcophagus. 
This  sarcophagus  was  found  at  the  Necropolis  at  Thebes,  in 
1822,  and  its  occupant  was  a  high-priest;  and  ranged 
round  it  are  objects  also  found  in  the  tomb,  such  as  his 
staffs  of  ofiice,  offerings  for  the  dead,  representations  of  an- 
cient Nile  boats,  which  give  us  the  view  of  the  ancient 
navigation  of  the  river  four  thousand  years  ago,  that  being 
the  age  of  this  sarcophagus  and  the  objects  that  surround  it. 

Leaving  the  antiquities  of  old  Eg^'pt,  we  ascend  to  a  series 
of  five  rooms,  to  which  the  guide-book  gives  three  lines 
each,  as  containing  "  smaller  works  of  art."  Access  is  had 
to  this  portion  of  the  Museum  via  the  grand  staircase  and 
through  a  hull  upheld  by  caryatides.  The  first  apartment 
contains  models,  artistic  and  curious  furniture,  &c.,  which 
is  displayed  in  four  large  and  elegant  glass  cases.  The 
models  of  celebrated  buildings  are  finely  executed,  and  must 
be  especially  interesting  to  u  student  of  architecture. 
Among  the  most  prominent  were  models  of  the  convent 
church  at  Ratisbon,  Cathedral  at  Freiburg,  St.  Isaac's  Church, 
St.  Petersburg,  Pulpit  for  Cologne  Cathedral,  and  the  prin- 
cipal entrance. to  Strasburg  Cathedral. 

Among  the  curiosities  of  furniture,  &c.,  we  were  shown 


430  PEUSSIAN    HISTORICAL   RELICS. 

the  camp-chair  used  by  Gustavus  Adolphus,  King  of  Swe- 
den, at  the  battle  of  Lutzen  ;  a  cupboard  that  belonged  to 
Melancthon  ;  the  last  will  of  Frederick  William  III.,  wrought 
in  silk  ;  arm-chair  of  the  time  of  Frederick  the  Great ;  and 
various  elaborate  and  elegant  articles  of  furniture,  —  among 
which  was  an  elegant  artistical  cabinet  in  the  form  of  a 
temple,  with  spiral  pillars ;  an  old  church-pew  of  boxwood, 
with  the  figures  of  Faith,  Love,  Hope,  and  Patience  carved 
upon  it ;  cabinets  of  ebony  and  silver ;  curious  old 
looking-glass  frames  that  were  elegantly  wrought  and 
carved  ;  and  a  splendid  cabinet  of  ebony  and  silver,  which 
was  made  for  Phillip,  Duke  of  Pomerania,  at  Augsburg,  in 
1617.  This  cabinet  rested  upon  four  silver  griffins,  and 
was  five  feet  high  by  about  three  and  one-half  in  breadth, 
and  surmounted  by  a  representation  of  Parnassus  and  the 
winged  horse  Pegasus. 

We  next  came  to  a  niche  which  was  rich  in  Prussian 
historical  relics,  which  were  excellently  arranged  for  ex- 
hibition. The  figures  of  Frederick  the  Great,  King  Fred- 
erick I.,  his  father,  and  Frederick  William  I.,  his  grand- 
father, known  as  the  Great  Elector,  were  represented  by 
life-size  figures,  clad  in  the  garments  they  wore  while  living. 
The  custodian  of  this  department,  who  was  explaining  to  a 
large  group  of  his  countrymen,  noticing  our  small  party  of 
foreign  visitors  outside  the  group,  at  once  made  way  for  us 
and  invited  us  to  a  place  of  honor  inside  the  guard-rail, 
that  we  might  inspect  closely  and  even  handle  some  of  the 
mementos  of  these  great  sovereigns ;  —  lie  was  a  shrewd 
exhibitor,  and  probably  argued,  and  correctly,  that  his  palm 
would  be  liberally  crossed  for  such  voluntary  courtes}'. 
The  figures  were  all  artistically  modelled,  and  the  face  of 
Frederick  the  Great  was  made  from  a  cast  of  his  face  taken 
after  death  ;  his  figure  was  dressed  in  full  military  uniform 
formerly  worn  by  him,  upon  the  breast  the  star  of  the  order 
of  the  Black  Eagle,  and  by  the  side  the  sword  worn  in  many 
of  his  most  celebrated  battles.      The  custodian  brougrht  to 


MEMENTOS    OF   FREDERICK   THE   GREAT.  431 

US  the  helmet,  or  iron  battle-cap,  worn  by  Frederick  the 
Great's  grandfather, — a  huge  headpiece  weighing  twenty-one 
pounds, — and  his  great  sword  used  at  the  battle  of  Fehrbellin, 
which  was  a  weapon  requiring  a  strength  of  muscle  to  wield 
that  could  be  furnished  only  by  that  which  could  support 
such  a  helmet. 

Among  a  curious  collection  of  relics  of  Frederick  Wil- 
liam I.  was  a  lot  of  tobacco-pipes  used  in  the  celebrated 
Tobacco  Parliament,  where  all  smoked  ;  the  king's  and  his 
wife's  betrothal  rings,  his  walking-sticks,  and  sword. 

Among  the  relics  of  Frederick  the  Great  were  two  crayon 
pictures  made  by  him,  his  flute  and  sheet-music  that  he  had 
to  use  by  stealth  when  Crown  Prince,  under  the  tyrannical 
oppression  of  his  half  insane  father,  —  some  of  the  music 
sheets  half  consumed  by  fire,  into  which  they  had  been 
thrust  by  his  parent. 

Then  here  was  his  magnificent  military  dress  uniform  of 
blue  velvet  embroidered  with  silver,  his  watch,  his  playing- 
counters,  elegant  walking-sticks  ornamented  with  tortoise- 
shell  and  diamonds,  his  decoration  ribbon,  cocked  hat  —  as 
marked  an  article  of  wardrobe  as  that  of  Napoleon,  —  snuff- 
boxes, sword,  and  arm-chair.  A  collection  of  historic  swords 
included  that  of  Charles  XII.,  the  Lion  of  Sweden;  that  with 
which  Count  Hardeck  was  executed  at  Vienna  in  1595  ; 
another  that  did  similar  duty  upon  the  neck  of  Duke  Nicho- 
las of  Oppcln,  in  1497  ;  those  of  each  of  the  Fredericks,  of 
Prince  Ludwig,  of  General  Kleist,  and  other  celebrated 
Prussians. 

An  interesting  display  of  relics  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte 
consisted  of  articles  which  were  captured  in  his  carriage 
at  Genaape  by  the  Prussians,  immediately  after  the  battle 
of  Waterloo  ;  among  them  were  his  pistols,  portfolios,  snuff- 
box, a  hat,  orders,  and  decorations.  Two  remarkable  relics 
were  the  jasper  sceptre  of  Charlemagne,  and  a  box  contain- 
ing a  fragment  of  the  standard  of  Pizarro,  the  conqueror  of 
Peru,  this  latter  being  presented  to  the  Museum  by  Ilum- 
boldt. 


432  GLASS    AND    ENAMEL   WORK. 

The  saloon  of  majolica  and  glass  contains  a  collection  of 
that  ware  principally  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centu- 
ries. Here  we  saw  famous  glasses  of  ruby  hue  ;  others 
adorned  with  portraits  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  and  the  Great 
Elector;  the  goblet  with  which  Frederick  III.  drank  brother- 
hood with  Peter  the  Great ;  the  clay  drinking-jug  of  Maitin 
Luther  ;  curiously  ornamented  tankards,  glassware,  and  dec- 
orated porcelain. ' 

Then  came  a  saloon  of  ecclesiastical  works  of  art,  in  which 
wore  beautiful  Bj'zantine  crucifixes  ;  a  magnificent  wooden 
cross  of  open  work,  most  elaborately  wrought,  by  Albrecht 
Dtirer,  on  which  over  a  thousand  figures  are  represented  ; 
elegant  altar  ornaments  ;  beautiful  relic  boxes,  richly  orna- 
mented with  precious  stones ;  crosiers,  candlesticks,  and 
other  religious  works  of  art  of  great  beauty.  The  colored- 
glass  windows  of  this  room  have  some  fine  painting  ;  one 
window,  the  Kiss  of  Judas,  dates  about  1150,  and  another, 
Mary  and  John,  about  a  hundred  years  later. 

The  principal  saloon  for  the  exhibition  of  small  works  of 
art  of  the  middle  ages,  and  down  to  the  present  time,  con- 
tained a  large,  interesting,  and  very  beautiful  collection. 
There  are  more  than  five  thousand  objects  in  all  ;  they  are 
displayed  in  glass  cases,  over  each  of  which  is  designated 
the  century  in  which  the  objects  in  it  were  made.  In  one 
case  was  a  magnificent  collection  of  enamel  works  of  exquisite 
design  and  finish  ;  a  dish  with  a  representation  of  Daphne 
pursued  by  Apollo  ;  medallions  on  which  the  combat  of 
Satan  and  Michael  was  represented ;  and  Bacchanalian 
representations  of  the  history  of  Dido ;  Christ  before  Pilate, 
Christ  at  the  Cross,  scenes  in  the  History  of  Samson  ;  salt- 
cellars with  the  labors  of  Hercules,  and  candlesticks  repre- 
senting the  four  seasons  ;  boxes,  cups,  and  medallions,  upon 
which  portraits,  allegories,  mythological  scenes,  revels,  and 
armorial  bearings  succeeded  each  other  in  elegant  profusion. 

Next  came  a  great  case  of  the  oldest  carved  works  of 
wood  and  ivory  from  the  sixth  to  the  fifteenth   century,  and 


CURIOSITIES    OF   ART.  433 

containing'  Oriental  and  German  hunting-bugles  of  ivory,  an 
ivory  trinket  box  of  the  twelfth  century,  a  book-cover  with 
the  life  of  Christ  wrought  upon  it,  an  Oriental  box  of  the 
eleventh  century,  &c.  Otiier  cases  were  equally  rich  in 
curious  objects  :  such  as  a  crystal  vase  with  scenes  cut  in 
the  setting,  and  handle  wrought  in  gold,  by  Bcnvenuto 
Cellini ;  curious  old  watches,  a  set  of  the  first  manufactured, 
known  as  Nuremberg  eggs  ;  a  bowl  of  rock-crystal ;  ostrich- 
eggs,  and  nautilus-shells  as  cups,  richly  ornamented.  Amber 
work  —  a  little  spinning-wheel  made  of  it  —  boxes,  cabinets, 
and  knife-handles  ;  a  big  silver  gilt  dish  illustrated  with 
scenes  from  the  life  of  Moses  ;  a  beautiful  altar  inlaid  with 
amber.  Coming  down  to  the  eighteenth  century,  numerous 
specimens  of  wood-carvings  were  exhibited,  mosaics,  gems, 
&c.  One  case  contained  a  curious  collection  of  weapons 
and  musical  instruments,  hawks,  hoods  and  bells  for  hawk- 
ing, crossbows  and  belts,  hunting-knives,  battle-axes,  dag- 
gers, and  swords,  with  curious  and  elaborate  handles,  one 
sword-handle  representing  a  combat  of  centaurs. 

The  Cabinet  of  Prints,  or  collection  of  ei^gravings,  which 
contain  about  half  a  million  engravings  and  drawings  in 
three  rooms,  is  said  to  be  admirably  arranged  for  examina- 
tion, but  it  is  only  open  to  the  public  on  Sundays. 

I  must  conclude  mj'  description  of  the  Berlin  Museum 
(which,  lengthy  as  it  is,  has  often  from  necessary  condensa- 
tion become  almost  a  catalogue)  by  brief  reference  to  two 
collections  yet  unnoticed.  First,  the  collection  of  plaster 
casts,  which  are  in  a  gallery  over  the  Egj-ptian  outer  court, 
entrance  being  had  from  the  grand  staircase  hall  by  passing 
under  one  of  the  great  staircases,  and  which  contains  casts 
of  a  great  many  of  the  most  celebrated  Egyptian  monuments, 
as  well  as  Assyrian  and  Grecian  sculptures  and  antiquities. 

The  second  is  a  very  rich  collection  of  silver  Roman  arti- 
cles found  in  excavating  near  Hildesheim,  which  is  in  the 
Antiquarian  Collection,  but  might  not  be  seen  unless  inquired 
for.  It  is  called  the  Silver  Treasure,  and  consists  of  a  com- 
28 


434  POTSDAM. 

plete  set  of  Roman  drinking-vessels  supposed  to  have  been 
buried  by  the  Roman  general  Varus.  There  are  over  forty 
different  pieces,  comprising  beautifully  wrought  goblets,  a 
large  water-kettle  ornamented  with  cupids,  three  beautiful 
bowls  adorned  with  musks,  others  with  bas-reliefs ;  also 
smaller  bowls,  plates,  salvers,  pitchers,  and  vases,  all  of  great 
beauty  of  workmanship,  and  interesting  as  examples  of  the 
artistic  taste  of  the  age  in  which  they  were  made. 

Potsdam  is  by  many  styled  the  Versailles  of  Prussia,  it 
being  about  twenty  miles  from  Berlin,  and  its  royal  palaces 
and  beautiful  gardens  especially  built  and  laid  out  for  the 
enjoyment  of  the  royal  family  and  court.  Although  a  por- 
tion of  it  was  done  at  a  vast  expense,  especially  the  New 
Palace,  as  it  is  called,  which  was  founded  by  Frederick  the 
Great  after  the  Seven  Years'  War  in  1763,  in  order  to  show 
that  his  exchequer  was  by  no  means  exhausted,  the  amount 
was  a  bagatelle  compared  to  the  millions  which  the  Louises 
squandered  in  their  luxurious  profuseness  at  Versailles. 

The  best  way  to  see  the  sights  of  Potsdam,  is  to  take  a 
carriage  and  English-speaking  valet  de  place ;  which  were  at- 
tainable at  the  railway  station  in  Potsdam  at  the  time  of  the 
author's  visit,  and  can  generally  be  found  there  during  the 
travelling  season,  when  ximerican  and  English  tourists  are 
likely  to  visit  the  place. 

The  rooms  of  Frederick  the  Great  in  the  Old  Palace,  a  suite 
of  three  or  four  which  he  occupied'  before  completing  the 
New  Palace,  are  interesting  from  the  fact  that  they  have  not 
been  remodelled  or  their  condition  changed  since  tlicir  illus- 
trious owner  left  them.  One  room  contained  a  lot  of  old, 
torn,  blue,  silk-covered  chairs,  and  a  lounge,  shabby  enough 
indeed,  but  showing  the  condition  to  which  the  king  had 
allowed  his  favorite  dogs  to  reduce  them.  In  fact,  he  was, 
if  history  does  not  belie  him,  more  indulgent  to  his  dogs 
than  to  his  soldiers,  for  he  had  learned  few  lessons  of  for- 
bearance from  the  cruel  and  rigid  military  school  in  which 
he  was  educated. 


SANS   SOUCI.  435 

Here  also  I  paused  to  lay  my  hands  upon  the  ink-stained 
writing-desk  at  which  the  monarch  had  written  for  years  ; 
and  a  square  vacant  place  in  the  covering'  was  pointed  to 
US  as  a  portion  which  had  been  cut  away  by  Napoleon  when 
he  visited  the  place.  Napoleon  also  took  Frederick's  sword, 
which  formerly  rested  upon  his  sarcophagus  in  a  vault  beneath 
what  is  known  as  the  Garrison  Church,  at  Potsdam. 

Here  also  is  the  king's  bookcase,  with  a  collection  of 
French  and  German  works,  and  his  hat,  snuffbox,  walking- 
sticks,  sash,  music  composed  by  himself,  the  music-stand 
that  he  had  used  when  a  boy,  probably  at  the  time  when  his 
brutal,  half  insane  old  father,  ascertaining  that  his  son  wrote 
verses  and  played  the  flute,  called  him  into  his  presence  and 
ordered  his  graceful  flowing  locks  to  be  cut  and  soaped  in 
the  most  rigid  military  style. 

The  double-walled  room,  with  the  trap-door  through  which 
the  table  could  be  let  down  ready-set  out  with  dinner  for 
the  king  and  those  with  whom  he  wished  to  dine  privately, 
and  his  little  sleeping-room,  are  objects  of  interest.  The 
other  apartments  of  the  palace  are  such  as  I  have  frequently 
described,  those  most  interesting  being  the  ones  occupied 
by  Frederick  William  III.  and  Frederick  William  IV.,  which 
are  kept  as  near  as  possible  in  the  way  that  they  were  left. 
The  garden  near  this  palace,  beautifully  laid  out,  has  numer- 
ous bronze  statues  and  a  big  fountain,  a  great  basin  —  a 
shell  supporting  Thetis  and  Neptune.  The  garden  is  a  popu- 
lar resort  on  Sundays,  when  the  fine  military  band  plays  there, 
and  a  grand  dress-parade  of  the  troops  takes  place. 

But  the  Park  and  Palace  of  Sans  *Sbuciwill  probably  most 
interest  the  visitor.  The  designation  of  this,  "  Free  from 
Care,"  or,  as  Carl3de  translated  it  rather  freely,  "  No  Bother," 
originated  from  a  remai'k  that  Fredei'ick  made  when  con- 
templating the  roj-al  burial-place  near  by  :  "  Hero  I  shall  be 
free  from  care.^'  The  great  fountain  in  this  park  throws  a 
stream  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  height,  and  is  sur- 
rounded by  mythological  groups  ;   all  around  in  the  vicinity 


436  THE    ORANGERY. 

are  numerous  otlier  fountains,  statuary  groups,  terraces,  and 
beautiful  parterres  of  brilliant  flowers.  A  copy  of  Freder- 
ick's equestrian  statue  that  stands  in  Unler  den  Linden  is 
here  splendidly  done  in  marble. 

Up  a  broad  flight  of  marble  steps  sixty-six  feet  in  height, 
and  broken  by  six  landings  or  terraces,  we  ascend  to  the  dome- 
crowned  palace  above,  the  steps  reminding  us  somewhat  of 
the  more  magnificent  stretch  of  similar  ascent  at  the  garden 
at  Versailles.  Like  the  other  palace,  the  apartments  here 
viewed  with  the  greatest  curiosity  are  those  in  which 
Frederick  the  Great  lived,  and  where  he  died  on  the  17th  of 
August,  1785.  Frederick  used  three  rooms  for  his  private 
use  —  a  reception-room,  library,  and  sleeping-room.  In  the 
latter  he  slept  on  a  small  iron  camp-bedstead. 

There  was  no  admittance  to  the  apartments  during  our 
visit,  however,  as  the  Queen  Dowager  was  at  home,  and 
curiosity-seekers  and  tourists  were  excluded.  We  there- 
fore contented  ourselves  with  a  stroll  through  the  Park, 
admiring  some  of  its  fine  forest-trees,  and  noticing  that  it 
was  not,  as  we  say  in  America,  "  kept  up  "  as  is  that  at 
Versailles. 

I  had  seen  so  many  original  pictures  in  the  great  galleries 
of  Europe,  that  I  confess  to  but  a  hasty  glance  at  the  col- 
lection of  copies  of  forty  of  the  best  of  Raphael's  produc- 
tions, in  a  beautiful  modern-built  building,  over  one  thousand 
feet  long,  ornamented  with  niches  and  statuary  on  the  out- 
side, and  not  far  from  the  palace,  styled  "the  Granger}',"  per- 
haps because  there  were  no  oranges  there  except  some 
orange-trees  that  were  set  along  outside  in  huge  tubs.  It 
is  but  justice  to  say,  however,  that  the  copies  of  paintings 
were  excellent  ones,  and  this  part  of  the  establishment, 
which  was  on  the  ground  floor,  and  entered  by  dcjors  from 
the  garden  walk,  was  freely  open  to  visitors. 

A  beautiful  little  reproduction  of  the  Panfheon  at  Rome, 
which  we  were  permitted  to  enter,  in  another  part  of  the 
grounds,    contained    an    elegant    marble    statue    of   Queen 


A   MONUMENT   OF   JUSTICE.  437 

Louise,  of  which  the  king-  is  said  to  have  remarked  that  it 
was  not  his  Louise,  and  afterwards  to  have  been  more  satis- 
i5ed  with  the  same  sculptor's  (Rauch's)  work  at  Charlotten- 
burg  in  the  mausoleum  previously  described.  A  fine  view 
is  had  down  an  avenue  a  mile  in  length,  which  crosses  this 
park  and  terminates  at  one  end  with  a  triumphal  arch,  and 
at  the  other  with  an  obelisk  of  red  marble  seventy-five  feet 
high  on  a  white  marble  pedestal. 

We  did  not  forget  to  go  and  look,  while  at  Sans  Souci, 
at  the  historical  windmill  so  famous  in  story,  which,  when 
Frederick  the  Great  was  laying  out  the  grounds,  the  obsti- 
nate owner  sturdily  refused  to  sell,  and,  on  being  sued  by 
the  king,  beat  him  in  a  Prussian  court  of  justice,  and  the 
king  had  to  alter  his  plans  of  the  grounds,  leaving  the  mill 
out.  Frederick  then  turned  the  case  to  account  by  building 
a  new  large  mill  for  the  miller  as  "  a  monument  of  Prussian 
justice,"  which  is  the  one  that  is  shown  to  the  traveller. 
The  present  king  was,  a  few  years  ago,  waited  on  by  the 
descendant  of  the  former  owner,  who  had  experienced  heavy 
losses,  and  desired  to  sell  the  mill.  The  king  inquired  into 
his  case,  and  finding  his  stor}^  correct,  furnished  him  with 
means  to  defray  all  his  debts,  and  kept  the  mill  intact  and 
standing  as  an  historical  memento. 

Babelsburg,  but  a  short  drive  from  Saiis  Souci,  and  a 
charming  situation,  was  the  residence  of  the  present  emperor 
while  Prince  Regent,  just  before  his  accession  to  the  throne, 
and  is  a  sort  of  Norman  castle-looking  place,  built  of  dark 
stone  and  surrounded  by  beautiful  grounds.  Small  in  ex- 
tent, but  elegantly  fitted  up,  it  has  a  genuine  home-like 
appearance,  especially  when  we  went  into  the  king's  writing- 
cabinet,  whei*e  was  his  writing-table,  crowded  with  docu- 
ments and  plans,  two  or  three  atlases,  and  much-used  blotting- 
paper,  paper  weights,  a  couple  of  not  very  tidy  inkstands, 
a  paper-knife  in  an  uncut  pamphlet,  two  or  three  German 
newspapers,  and  a  London  Times.  It  was  for  all  the  world 
like  a  railroad  president's  private  office  from  which  he  had 


438  AX  INSIDE  LOOK  AT  ROYALTY. 

stepped  out  for  a  moment.  The  old  lounge  behind  the  chair 
at  the  desk  had  a  couple  of  much-used,  half-rolled  archi- 
tect's plans  lying  upon  it,  and  a  little  piece  of  half-finished 
ornamental  needlework  that  some  visitor,  perhaps  his 
daughter,  had  carelessly  thrown  down  there  at  her  last 
visit  and  forgotten. 

In  the  king's  chamber  was  his  plain  but  comfortable  camp 
bedstead,  the  coverlid  surmounted  by  a  Scotch  plaid  shawl  ; 
and  by  its  side  a  V70oden  arm-chair  made  by  the  Crown- 
Prince  Fritz,  it  being  the  custom  that  all  the  princes  shall 
learn  some  trade,  and  be  able  to  personally  produce  some 
article  of  it.  This  chair  was  one  of  tlie  products  of  Fritz's 
skill  as  a  cabinet-maker ;  and  a  specimen  of  the  art-work 
of  the  Crown  Princess,  in  the  shape  of  a  bust  of  her  own 
cutting,  stood  upon  the  dressing-bureau,  and  a  little  sketch 
of  her  own  painting  was  suspended  on  the  wall. 

The  views  from  the  windows  of  all  the  apartments  are 
most  charming,  and  include  fine  reaches  of  scenery  through 
the  dense  foliage  to  Sans  Souci  and  Potsdam,  or  take  in, 
after  a  sweep  of  charming  lawn,  the  beautiful  Marble  Palace 
in  the  distance. 

The  rooms  of  the  Princess  Imperial,  who,  it  will  be 
remembered,  is  Victoria,  eldest  daughter  of  the  English 
queen,  had  a  most  charming  and  home-like  appearance, 
unlike  many  other  residences  of  royalty  I  had  previously 
visited.  Here  was  a  charming  sitting-room,  elegantly  fitted 
up,  just  such  as  an  ordinarily  wealthy  person  in  England  or 
America  would  have  ;  a  few  choice  pictures  on  the  wall, 
two  or  three  English  magazines,  among  them  Temple  Bar, 
and  a  copy  of  London  Punch  on  the  table,  and  on  a  little 
tier  of  book-shelves  a  set  of  the  old  Token  and  Oriental 
Annual,  which  are  so  familiar  as  gift-books  of  thirty  years 
ago.  The  disposition  of  the  little  flower-vases,  arm-chairs,  and 
other  furniture  had  a  decidedly  English  and  American  appear- 
ance, and  the  passing  breeze  that  swept  into  the  room  was 
laden  with  fragrance  of  the  flower-beds,  upon  one  of  which, 


THE   FIVE   PALACES.  439 

as  we  looked  from  the  casement,  we  discovered  the  name 
Victoria  growing  in  gajiy-colored  flowers. 

The  beautiful  Gothic  dining-room  entrance-hall,  with  its 
antlers,  skins,  —  trophies  of  the  chase,  —  the  quiet,  exqui- 
site taste  with  which  the  various  rooms  were  furnished  with 
fine  modern  paintings,  statuettes,  and  pretty  vases,  all  sug- 
gested the  residence  of  a  gentleman  of  fortune  and  good 
taste,  and  was  certainly,  a  home,  with  home  surroundings 
that  ought  to  contribute  to  the  comfort  of  its  possessors,  if 
any  ease  can  come  to  "  the  head  that  wears  a  crown." 

The  five  palaces  at  Putsdam,  and  their  beautiful  sur- 
roundings, require  much  more  time,  to  be  seen  thoroughly, 
than  most  tourists  devote  to  them ;  and  American  residents 
at  Berlin,  who  have  opportunity  to  ride  out  again  and  again 
on  pleasure  excursions  in  this  direction,  find  fresh  objects  of 
interest,  which  cannot  be  taken  in  on  the  one  day's  race 
round  in  charge  of  a  valet  de  place,  as  laid  down  in  the 
guide-books.  Our  stay  was  all  too  short  in  what  is  known 
as  the  New  Palace,  a  superb  structure  at  one  end  of  the 
magnificent  avenue  that  runs  through  the  whole  length  of 
the  Park  of  Sans  Souci.  This  palace  is  said  to  contain  two 
hundred  different  apartments.  Those  shown  to  visiters  are 
magnificently  decorated  and  richly  furnished. 

In  the  apartments  of  Frederick  the  Great,  his  study-table, 
the  manuscript  of  his  writing  in  French,  his  library,  and  a 
sketch  of  the  ugly  visage  of  Voltaire  drawn  by  him,  and 
articles  that  he  used  when  living,  are  interesting  relics  to 
visitors.  Another  attraction  is  a  grand  saloon,  the  walls 
of  which  are  entirely  composed  of  different  ores,  minerals, 
metals,  stones,  crj-stals,  shells,  &c.,  of  every  conceivable 
variety,  the  whole  lighted  b}'  huge  and  elegant  glass  chan- 
deliers. They  were  arranged  in  the  walls  and  ceilings  in 
squares,  rings,  or  diamonds,  and  very  skilfully  disposed. 
There  were  splendid  specimens  of  copper  ore  in  the  rough, 
with  here  and  there  a  bit  of  the  rough  mass  polished  ;  rich, 
cut  agate,  semi-finished    in    the    same  manner ;    sparkling, 


440  THEATRE    AND    PICTURE    GALLERIES. 

irrog-ular  masses  of  lead ;  elegant  figures  formed  of  the 
delicately  tinted  tropical  mussel  shells  ;  jagged,  irregular 
masses  of  iron  pyrites;  silver  ore;  the  sombre  coal,  and 
its  peacock-hued  brother ;  brilliant  coral,  with  its  ruby  red  ; 
and  jet-black  marble,  contrasting  with  carnelian  or  por- 
phyry. The  eflFect  of  this  large  and  lofty  hall,  when 
flooded  with  light  from  the  crystal  chandeliers  above,  must 
be  magnificent,  and  remind  one  of  a  fairy  grotto  or  mer- 
maid's cavern. 

Among  the  other  apartments  in  this  New  Palace  is  a 
handsome  little  theatre,  very  richly  decorated,  which  will 
hold  an  audience  of  six  hundred  persons  ;  the  great  mar- 
ble saloon,  one  hundred  feet  in  length,  so  called  for  its 
being  finished  richly  in  that  material ;  and  the  great  ball- 
room, elegantly  decorated,  in  which  are  several  choice  pic- 
tures by  Guido  and  other  celebrated  artists.  The  visitor 
who  has  not  j'^et  become  fatigued  with  viewing  the  works 
of  the  great  masters  in  the  picture-galleries,  will  find  sev- 
eral in  the  drawing  and  ante-rooms  that  are  shown  to  the 
public  in  this  palace,  —  such  as  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi, 
by  Rubens  ;  a  splendid  Cleopatra,  by  Titian  ;  and  Giordino's 
Rape  of  the  Sabines,  and  Judgment  of  Paris. 

The  palace  known  as  the  Mai-ble  Palace  we  contented 
ourselves  with  an  external  inspection  of,  and  its  beautiful 
grounds,  known  as  the  New  Gardens  ;  and  at  the  elegant 
country  residence,  near  the  Park  of  Sans  Souci,  known  as 
Gharlottenhof,  with  a  view  of  an  adjoining  structure,  which 
is  a  reproduction  of  an  ancient  Roman  bath-house,  and  con- 
tains a  bath  cut  from  jasper,  and  a  beautiful  marble  group 
of  Ilebe  and  Ganymede  ;  the  interior  being  elegantly  dec- 
orated with  frescos,  in  antique  style,  and  with  bronzes, 
some  of  which  were  brought  from  tlie  ruins  of  Ilcrcu- 
laneum. 

We  could  only  look  at,  and  wish  also  that  time  would 
allow  us  to  ascend,  the  grand  dome  of  the  beautil'ul  church 
of  St.  Nicholas,  and  enjoy  the  view  therefrom  ;  or  to  inspect 


BEELIX    TO    HANOVEE.  441 

the  captured  French  battle-flags  and  eagles  that  hung  as 
trophies  about  the  walls  of  the  Garrison  Church  ;  but  the 
descending  sun,  and  the  hour  of  the  departure  of  the  rail- 
road train,  left  no  alternative  but  to  drive  rapidly  past  them 
on  through  the  William  Square,  where  stood  Kiss's  hand- 
some statue  of  Frederick  AVilliam  III.,  inscribed,  "  To  the 
Father  of  his  Country/'  —  on  to  the  railway  station,  from 
whence  we  were  whirled  back  in  the  train  to  the  Prussian 
capital. 

From  Berlin  to  Hanover  is  about  a  four  and  a  half 
hours'  ride  by  rail.  This  city  I  made  a  halt  at  for  a  short 
rest  previous  to  the  long  stretch  of  a  whole  day's  journey 
by  rail  to  Amsterdam.  We  reached  this  former  capital  of 
what  was  once  the  little  Kingdom  of  Hanover,  but  is  now 
a  Prussian  province,  at  about  five  in  the  afternoon  ;  and  one 
hardly  needs  to  be  told  in  the  guide-books  that  the  city 
occupies  a  position  at  the  junction  of  several  important 
railways,  as  he  is  sure  to  ascertain  if  he  stops  at  any  of 
the  principal  hotels  that  surround  the  great  open  semi- 
circular space  near  the  railway  station. 

This  Platz  is  itself  a  noisy  and  busy  place,  with  passen- 
gers coming  and  going  from  hotel  to  station,  the  rush  and 
rattle  of  numerous  arriving  and  departing  trains,  and  the 
steam-whistles  of  locomotives  at  all  hours,  rivalling  some 
of  our  American  cities,  and  rendering  sleep  somewhat  of  a 
difficult  performance,  unless  one  is  proof  against  noise. 
Then  again  we  arrived  the  night  previous  to  a  grand  leather 
fair,  and  every  hotel  in  the  place  was  filled  with  leather- 
merchants,  and  the  pavement  in  front  of  hotels,  restaurants, 
and  cafes  was  thronged  with  them,  exhaling  clouds  of 
smoke  from  their  pipes,  and  discussing  business.  This  part 
of  the  city  and  the  vicinity  is,  however,  the  more  modern, 
best  built,  and  most  frequented  by  foreigners. 

Our  investigations  in  Hanover  were  brief,  and  consisted 
first  of  a  good  look  at  a  handsome  equestrian  statue  of 


442  HOUSE    OF    LEIBNITZ. 

King  Ernest  Augustus,  king  of  Hanover,  in  cavalry  uni- 
form, in  front  of  the  railway  station.  We  then  took  a 
stroll  through  some  of  the  principal  streets,  almost  at  ran- 
dom. One  of  tliese  rambles  brought  us  into  some  romantic, 
quaint-looking  old  streets,  near  the  market-place,  where 
were  a  number  of  picturesque,  Gothic-looking  brick  build- 
ings, which  we  learned  were  of  the  time  of  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries,  and  one,  more  curious  than  the  rest, 
had  a  sort  of  projection  jutting  out  from  it,  upon  which 
were  represented  a  number  of  Scriptural  scenes.  This  a 
good-natured  bystander,  after  some  trouble,  contrived  to 
make  us  understand  was  the  one  we  were  seeking,  the  house 
of  Leibnitz,  the  celebrated  German  scholar,  who,  it  will  be 
recollected,  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  specimens  of 
universal  scholarship  on  record,  being  eminent  in  languages, 
history,  divinity,  political  studies,  experimental  and  me- 
chanical science,  belles-lettres,  and  especially  in  philosophy, 
through  which  reputation  chiefly,  he  lives  in  history.  He 
was  a  native  of  Hanover,  and  died  in  1716;  and  a  mon- 
umental temple  containing  his  bust  is  situated  in  the  Wa- 
terloo Plalz.  His  grave  is  in  the  Neustiidter  Church,  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  Platz.  Not  far  from  here  is  a 
handsome  old  city  hall,  built  in  the  Gothic  style  in  1439, 
and  the  Market  Church,  with  a  steeple  or  tower  three  hun- 
dred feet  high. 

Tlie  palace  here,  which  is  situated  on  Lein  Street,  upon 
the  banks  of  the  river  Lein,  is  not  far  from  the  principal 
square  or  park  of  the  city,  known  as  Waterloo  Platz,  which 
is  handsomely  laid  out,  its  chief  monument  being  the  Wa- 
terloo Column,  which  is  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  feet 
high,  surmounted  by  a  figure  of  Victory,  erected  in  memory 
of  the  Hanoverians  who  fell  at  tiie  battle  of  Waterloo.  At 
the  opposite  end  of  this  Platz  stands  the  statue  of  General 
or  Count  Alton,  who  was  the  Hanoverian  gensral  at  Water- 
loo, and  died  in  1840.  Another  fine  statue  is  a  colossal  one 
of  Schiller,  situated  on  George's  Square,  which  opens  out 


A   BEAUTIFUL   DEIVE.  443 

of  George's  Street.  This  street,  and  Frederick  Street, 
which  opens  ont  of  Waterloo  Square  just  described,  are 
notably  two  of  the  finest  streets  in  the  city.  On  the  latter 
is  situated  the  theatre,  said  to  be  the  finest  in  Germany.  It 
will  comfortably  seat  eighteen  hundred  persons,  and  the 
handsome  portico  is  adorned  with  twelve  statues  of  cel- 
ebrated  authors   and  musical  composers. 

A  beautiful  drive  is  that  which  is  known  as  the  road  of 
the  Avenue  of  Limes,  from  its  being  lined  on  both  sides 
with  trees  of  that  description.  This  road  leads  to  the 
Schioss  Herrenhausen,  or  castle,  which  is  noted  as  being  a 
residence  of  three  of  the  Georges,  first,  second,  and  fifth. 
The  gardens,  which  are  one  hundred  and  twenty  acres  in 
extent,  are  elegantly  laid  out,  but  the  buildings  externally 
are  quite  plain  and  unpretending.  Near  here  we  were 
shown  a  large  circular  building  with  five  towers,  which  is 
denominated  the  Tower  of  the  Guelphs.  This  ride  finished 
our  day  of  rest,  which  was,  on  account  of  sight-seeing, 
postponed  to  the  one  succeeding,  which  was  made  literally 
so,  as  we  resolutely  abstained  from  further  excursions  next 
day,  with  the  exception  of  an  afternoon  ride  to  the  Zoologi- 
cal Garden,  where,  notwithstanding  it  was  Sunday,  there 
was  an  open-air  instrumental  concert.  The  grounds  are 
very  prettily  laid  out,  and  the  collection  of  animals  and 
birds  is  a  very  good   one. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Amsterdam  !  Yes,  we  are  in  Ilolland,  after  nearly  twelve 
hours  of  railroad  journey,  including  stops,  from  Hanover. 
We  passed  Zutphen  on  our  route,  where  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
received  his  mortal  wound,  —  the  scene  of  tlio  story  of  his 
causing  the  attendants  to  give  the  wounded  soldier  the  cup 


444  AMSTERDAM. 

of  water  before  himself;  through  Arnhem,  a  beautiful  town 
surrounded  by  elegant  villas  and  gardens,  where  Sidney 
died  ;  to  Utrecht,  a  bustling  Dutch  city,  where  we  changed 
cars,  and  began  to  find  everything  around  was  wearing  a 
decidedly  Dutch  look  :  quaint,  antique  brick  houses  and 
windmills  came  into  view,  and  there  was  a  general  thrifty 
look  to  all  the  surrounding  fertile  fields. 

The  railroad  carriage  into  which  we  changed  was  one 
kept  free  from  smokers,  and  the  notice  to  that  effect  proved 
that  the  Dutch  took  more  pains  to  promulgate  the  fact,  and 
appreciated  better  that  all  travellers  did  not  understand 
their  language,  than  the  railroad  managers  in  many  other 
countries  we  had  pac:.sed  through  ;  for  the  notice  was  in  the 
following  different  dialects  : 

Nict  Rooken. 

Far  Nichtraucher. 

Defense   de   fumer   ici. 

No  Smoking  Allowed. 

And  this,  in  a  land  where  nine-tenths  of  the  male  popu- 
lation are  puffing  like  chimneys,  is  an  appreciated  boon  to 
the  non-inhalers  of  tobacco-smoke. 

As  we  approach  Amsterdam,  the  great  windmills  for 
grinding  grain  and  for  draining  the  land,  the  long  reaches 
of  flat  country,  dikes  and  fertile  plains  that  must  have  been 
once,  or  would  be  now,  the  bottoms  of  great  lakes  were  not 
the  land  wrenched  from  the  sea,  —  sleek  black  and  white 
cattle,  and  now  and  then  a  canal-boat  in  the  distance,  —  tell 
us  that  we  are  fairly  in  the  Hollow  Land. 

But  a  short  distance  from  the  railway  station  is  the 
Amstel  Hotel,  a  fine  new  building,  constructed,  as  all 
the  great  hotels  are  getting  to  be  in  this  age  of  steam  and 
universal  travelling,  in  modern  style,  and  where  travellers 
who  have  been  annoyed  and  have  experienced  the  discom- 
forts of  short  beds,  and  great  stuffed,  down  coverlids  for 
top-covering  in  the  German  country  inns,  and  have  thanked 
tlicir  stars,   as  has  the  author,  that  he  always  had  a  good 


DUTCH   WINDMILLS.  445 

roll  of  Scotch  shawls,  will  greet  English  beds,  mosquito- 
nettings,  liberal-sized  washhand-stands,  and  other  objects  of 
familiar  service  to  him,  with  decided  satisfaction. 

Our  spacious  room  looked  directly  out  upon  the  river 
Amstel,  along  which  and  the  adjacent  canal  we  could  descry 
a  row  of  Don  Quixote's  giants,  the  windmills,  and  also 
every  variety  of  Dutch  treck-shuit,  or  canal-boat.  Wind- 
mills are  decidedly  a  Dutch  institution,  have  been  used  for 
hundreds  of  years  in  Holland  ;  and  some  of  those  used 
for  deep  drainage,  ranged  along  the  side  of  a  canal,  with 
their  huge  revolving  sails  seen  in  the  twilight  against  the 
sky  red  with  sunset,  are  an  imposing  sight,  and  readily 
conjure  up  the  simile  of  a  long  row  of  sentinel-like  giants 
tossiug  up  their  huge  arms  in  defiance.  The  smaller  mills 
are  cheaply  made  of  wood  like  the  little  ones  that  we 
frequently  see  in  America ;  but  the  larger,  for  drainage  of 
land,  or  manufacturing  purposes,  have  a  substantial  foun- 
dation of  brick  or  stone,  and  on  this  stands  the  mill  proper, 
covered  with  a  heavy  straw  thatch,  with  its  great  hood  and 
enormous  arras,  or  sails,  which  sweep  round  a  circle  of  over 
one  hundred  feet  in  diameter. 

Some  of  these  run  huge  gangs  of  saws  that  saw  great 
logs  nearly  two  feet  in  diameter ;  others  are  huge  grain 
mills,  —  the  runs  of  stone  above,  the  granary  storage-room, 
a  stable,  &c.,  being  on  the  lower  floor.  The  great  pumping 
windmills  will,  in  a  fair  wind,  lift  eight  to  ten  thousand 
gallons  of  water  per  minute  to  the  height  of  four  feet.  The 
foundation-storj'-  of  these  great  pumping-mills  is  the  habi- 
tation of  the  family  whoso  head  has  charge  of  it ;  and  in- 
side is  as  charming  and  curious  an  old  Dutch  interior,  with 
Dutch  clock,  brass-mounted  presses,  tiled  fireplace,  dark 
old  dressers  with  quaint  crockery,  and  old  Dutch  claw-foot 
chairs,  as  one  wouhl  wish  to  look  upon.  When  the  breeze 
is  fair,  and  3'oa  climb  into  the  upper  stoiy,  and  hear  the 
tremendous  shudder  which  the  great  revolving  wings  com- 
municate to  tiie  huge  structure  as  they  infuse  life  and  vigor 


446  DUTCH   CHARACTERISTICS. 

to  the  great  shaft  or  spindle  that  passes  down  through  the 
mill  like  its  spinal  marrow,  and  whirls  round  three  or  four 
runs  of  heavy  mill-stones,  or  keeps  the  great  gang-saws  in 
steady  motion,  cr  the  big  wheel  at  its  foot  in  one  unceasing 
rush  of  water-gathering,  you  will  realize  that  a  Dutch  wind- 
mill is  a  mechanical  contrivance  not  to  be  despised. 

The  first  walk  or  ride  out  in  Amsterdam  reveals  to  the 
visitor  many  quaint  and  curious  scenes  unlike  those  seen  in 
any  other  European  capital.  Time  has  changed  a  great 
deal  of  that  sleepy  old  romance  which  Washington  Irving 
in  his  admirable  sketches  has  thrown  around  everything 
Dutch,  in  the  American  mind.  Though  you  are  in  the  land 
of  the  Van  Tromps,  the  Peter  Stuyvesants,  and  the  Wouter 
Van  Twillers,  you  will  look  in  vain  for  the  steeple-crowned 
hats,  the  huge  breeches,  —  ten  broecks,  ten  breeches  to  a 
man,  —  or  huge  jackets,  sleepy  countenances,  long  clay 
pipes,  and  fat  forms  surrounded  by  leathern  belts  fastened 
with  a  big  buckle,  the  small-clothes  and  resetted  or  buckled 
shoes  of  the  old  burghers  who  dozed  away  their  lives,  as 
described  in  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New  Netherlands. 

These,  like  the  noble  red  man,  the  cocked  hats  and  knee- 
breeches,  live  in  the  poetry  of  the  past  ;  yet  the  buxom 
forms  of  the  Dutch  maidens,  the  stout  ponderosity  of  the 
men,  the  quaint  old  architecture  of  the  houses,  reminding 
one  of  the  old  brass-ornamented  high  chests-of-drawers  that 
belonged  to  his  grandmother,  the  scrupulous  cleanliness  of 
everything,  and  withal  the  great  deliberation  which  charac- 
terizes all  transactions,  show  that  many  of  the  old  Dutch 
characteristics  remain. 

Some  of  the  guide-books,  as  well  as  travellers  who  visit 
Amsterdam,  are  in  the  habit  of  styling  it  the  Venice  of 
Holland,  or  "  Venice  of  the  North,"  but  the  only  similarity 
between  the  two  cities  is  that  both  are  built  upon  piles  and 
are  intersected  by  numerous  canals.  In  Venice,  however, 
a  horse  in  the  street  would  be  almost  as  great  a  novelty  as 
a  Bengal  tiger,  and  the  busy  squares  or  wide  streets  arc  the 


THE  CANALS  OF  AMSTERDAM.  447 

exceptions,  while  in  Amsterdam  both  are  plentiful.  Great 
paved  streets  are  noisy  with  huge  drays  and  rattling  vehi- 
cles, and  in  many  of  the  thoronglifares  you  would  not  dream 
of  the  existence  of  the  canals.  The  four  grand  canals  are  in 
the  middle  of  very  wide  streets,  with  rows  of  trees,  road- 
ways, and  foot-passenger  ways  on  either  side.  These  four 
are  in  concentric  semicircles  within  the  ramparts  of  the  city, 
and  are  intersected  by  numerous  others  tliat  run  in  every 
direction,  the  principal  ones  being-  bordered  by  handsome 
rows  of  houses  and  neat  promenades.  The  grand  i^rincipal 
canal,  or  great  water  avenue  1  might  call  it,  down  which  I 
took  a  stroll,  —  the  Heeren  Gracht,  —  was  four  miles  in 
length  and  shaded  with  beautiful  elm-trees.  Another  of 
these  bi'oad  semicircular  avenues,  the  Keizer^s  Gracht,  or 
King's,  was  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  width,  and  a  most 
elegant  avenue.  The  lesser  canals  were,  of  course,  the  cross- 
water  streets  to  these  grand  affairs,  or  short-cuts  connecting 
one  part  of  the  city  with  the  other  ;  and  the  whole  are  said 
to  divide  it  into  ninety  islands  connected  together  by  three 
hundred  bridges. 

The  dissimilarity  of  Amsterdam  to  Venice  is  marked  in 
the  dreamy  quiet  of  the  latter,  where  no  rattle  of  wheels  or 
noise  of  traffic  is  heard,  and  where  its  light  and  graceful 
gondolas,  tall  marble  palaces  rising  directly  out  of  the 
water,  its  latticed  iron  bridges,  and  stillness  that  is  broken 
rudely  by  a  shout,  the  creak  of  cordage  of  a  heavy  craft, 
and  general  air  of  listlessness,  contrast  sharply  with  the  roar 
and  rattle  of  vehicles  here ;  the  forests  of  masts  on  the 
river,  and  the  stubbed,  thickset-looking  canal-boats  on 
the  canals,  beside  which  a  gondola  would  appear  as  a 
gazelle  next  an  elephant ;  in  its  great  heavy  warehouses 
filled  full  of  merchandise,  or  the  taking  it  in  and  out  from 
luggers,  or  even  great  square-rigged  ships,  by  means  of 
huge,  creaking  cranes  and  hoisting-apparatus,  and  the  solid 
character  of  the  bridges,  as  well  as  the  to  me  curious  style 
of  drawbridges.     These  bridges  are  attached  by  chains  to  a 


448  DEAWBRTDGES    AND    CANAL    BOATS. 

heavy  framework  of  wood  or  iron  above,  the  two  sides  of  the 
frame  looking-  like  the  walking-beam  of  a  steamboat-engine, 
but  the  machinery  of  it  is  so  nicely  balanced  that  one  man, 
or,  at  the  heavier  bridges,  two  men,  pulling  downwards  at 
the  rope  that  hangs  opposite  the  chains,  may  easily  hoist  the 
bridge  for  the  passage  of  the  boats. 

The  necessity  of  these  drawbridges  upon  nearly  all  the 
canals,  arises  from  the  fact  that  the  Dutch  canal-boats  are 
all  provided  with  masts  and  sails,  and,  unlike  ours,  depend 
upon  the  wind  for  propulsion,  or,  when  that  fails,  the  boat- 
men make  slow  progress  by  shoving  their  boats  along  with 
poles,  or  buckling  themselves  to  the  tow-rope.  -In  the 
smaller  family  or  market  boats,  it  is  not  an  uncommon  sight 
to  meet  the  woman  with  the  loop  of  the  tow-rope  over  her 
shoulders  as  she  tugs  along  the  tow-path,  while  the  stout 
husband  sits  at  the  helm,  steering  the  craft  and  comfortably 
smoking  his  pipe. 

These  canal-boats  are  much  shorter  than  ours,  and  are 
oiled  instead  of  painted,  and,  as  a  general  thing,  kept  scru- 
pulously neat,  a  large  number  of  them  being  the  constant 
residence  of  families  who  operate  them.  Some  of  the 
heavier  description  which  I  noticed,  had  their  stern  cabin- 
windows  shaded  with  lace  curtains  drawn  away  with  blue 
ribbon,  and  little  vases  of  flowers  set  in  the  window-seat; 
while  upon  the  deck,  beneath  the  shade  of  a  bit  of  canvas, 
sat  the  Dutch  vrow  in  spotless  cap,  gold  head-band  and 
pins,  kirtle,  short  dress,  and  worsted  stockings,  knitting 
away  industriously  as  she  enjoj^ed  the  cool  evening  air. 

The  varying  crowd  of  canal-boats,  with  the  loads  of 
merchandise  which  they  bring  into  the  city  ;  the  broad  mas- 
culine figures  of  the  peasant  women,  with  funny  head- 
dresses ;  the  lofty  and  narrow  Dutch  houses  of  red  and 
yellow  brick,  with  projecting  gables,  and  sometimes  sunk 
down  at  one  side  on  account  of  the  yielding  nature  of  their 
foundation;  the  little  shops  where  red-hot  turf  and  boiling 
water  are  sold,  the  latter  from  shining  copper  tea-kettles  ; 


PEASANT   WOMEN.  449 

and  withal  the  spick-span  cleanliness  of  everything,  —  are 
novelties  that  will  be  noticed  by  the  tourist  in  his  rambles 
about  Amsterdam. 

I  was  interested  in  watching  the  boatloads  of  cheese  and 
dairy  products  that  came  lazily  floating  down  the  canals, 
some  of  them  guided  by  women,  in  short  woollen  dresses, 
long  blue  worsted  stockings,  wooden  shoes,  and  curious 
head-dresses,  who  put  their  shoulders  against  the  padded 
end  of  a  long  pushing-pole,  and  worked  their  boats  into 
position  with  full  as  much  ease  as  the  men.  Indeed,  except 
for  their  lack  of  beards  and  difference  in  dress,  one  would 
see  but  little  difference  in  their  coarse  and  masculine  fig- 
ures. The  curious  head-dress  worn  by  the  peasant  women 
is  a  thin  band  of  pure  gold,  two  inches  wide,  that  goes  all 
round  the  head,  and  has  side-pieces  that  come  down  at  the 
temples  back  of  the  eyes,  in  the  shape  of  rosettes  or  orna- 
ments ;  and  over  this  are  placed  layers  of  thin  stuff  or 
muslin  through  which  the  precious  metal  shines.  These 
head-dresses  are  one  of  the  necessities,  it  seems,  of  every 
woman,  though  comparatively  expensive  affairs,  the  cheapest 
costing  forty  dollars,  and  the  better  ones  nearly  a  hundred. 
The  poorest  of  the  peasants,  who  cannot  get  one  of  gold, 
wear  one  of  silver,  but  never,  I  was  told,  of  brass  or  gilt. 

The  old  Dutch  houses  in  some  of  the  more  business-like 
quarters  of  the  city  are  jammed  together  in  picturesque  con- 
fusion, and  fairly  bulge  out  with  merchandise  ;  but  around 
all  is  prevalent  the  Dutch  characteristic  of  order  and  clean- 
liness, which  forbids  the  accumulation  of  heaps  of  rubbish 
ofleiisive  to  the  eye  or  olfactories.  The  wharves  that  I 
visited,  to  my  uneducated  eye,  looked  as  if  swcpt-up  for 
Sunday  :  chains  coiled  up  in  place,  anchors  freshly  painted, 
brass-work  shining  like  burnished  gold,  the  windows  of  the 
shops  and  houses  along  the  water-front  clear  as  crystal,  the 
door-sills  of  wood  white  from  polishing  with  soap  and  sand, 
or  painted,  that  the  stain  of  trade  might  not  soil  them. 
Upon  the  quay,  where  was  pointed  out  to  us  the  house  in 
29 


450  COMMERCIAL   IMPORTANCE. 

which  the  bold  Admiral  De  Euyter  used  to  live,  the  houses, 
though  right  in  the  very  atmosphere  of  tar,  oakum,  and 
ship  chandlery,  were  as  neat  as  a  new  Philadelphia  block 
of  houses  after  a  morning's  wash. 

But  if  one  wants  to  get  an  idea  of  the  enormous  trade  of 
the  country,  let  him  go  down  to  some  of  the  great  docks, 
with  their  crowd  of  ships  of  all  nations,  a  perfect  forest  of 
masts.  The  great  Custom  House  inclosure  of  bonded  ware- 
houses, or  "Entrepot  Dok,^'  as  it  is  called,  is  a  wonder,  in 
its  way,  and  well  worth  the  tourist's  inspection.  It  is  a 
vast  inclosed  canal,  with  a  depth  of  water  sufficient  to  ad- 
mit steamers  and  great  square-rigged  ships,  and  has  admira- 
bly arranged  storehouses  or  magazines  for  different  descrip- 
tions of  merchandise.  Here  are  piled  up  whole  cargoes  of 
coffee  and  sugar,  vast  heaps  of  corn,  cotton,  indigo,  and 
rice  ;  cordage  and  timber  from  Russia,  tea  from  China,  pe- 
troleum from  America,  English  iron  and  tin,  vast  magazines 
of  wines  and  liquors,  —  in  fact,  the  enormous  quantities  of 
merchandise  from  every  part  of  the  world  fairly  staggers 
the  beholder,  especially  if  he  has  been  wont  to  deem  Hol- 
land a  sort  of  insignificant  little  nation,  and  has  it  chiefly 
associated  in  his  mind  with  the  product  of  Dutch  cheeses 
and  Holland  gin. 

But  here,  with  these  vast  storehouses  bearing  the  names 
of  Cuba,  America,  Africa,  London,  Smyrna,  St.  Petersburg, 
Odessa,  Archangel,  Hamburg,  and  a  score  of  other  producing 
ports,  and  surrounded  by  shipping  from  every  part  of  the 
civilized  world,  with  merchandise  in  mountains  on  every 
side,  and  hundreds  of  busy  men,  the  moving  to  and  fro  of 
the  groat  barges  that  are  to  take  their  vast  loads  down  the 
Ilhine,  the  Neckar,  and  the  other  watercourses,  for  distribu- 
tion, he  feels  that  he  is  in  the  presence  of  a  great  commer- 
cial and  maritime  nation. 

The  great  dikes  and  canals  of  Holland,  and  their  con- 
struction, is  a  subject  that  a  volume  could  be  written  about, 
for  they  are  a  marvel  and  a  wonder  ofengineering  skill,  and 


CANALS    TO    THE    SEA.  451 

their  improvement  and  construction  to-day  seem  to  be  more 
closely  studied  than  ever  ;  and  one  cannot  help  questioning 
whether  the  vast  expenditure  which  is  going-  on  will  be 
repaid.  An  examination  into  the  condition  of  the  people, 
however,  reveals  no  indication  that  they  are  seriously  op- 
pressed on  this  account,  though  taxation  is  said  to  be  heavy  ; 
but  they  owe  to  a  large  degree  the  extraordinary  fertility  of 
their  lands,  which  have  been  reclaimed  from  the  sea,  to  the 
system  of  dykes  and  drainage  ;  for  it  will  be  remembered 
that  the  draining  of  Haarlem  Lake  gave  fifty  thousand  acres 
of  excellent  land  to  Holland. 

And  the  pathway  from  Amsterdam  to  the  sea  is  through 
one  of  their  wonderful  canals,  —  the  North  Holland  Canal, 
which  is  directly  opposite  the  city  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  Ij,  —  a  canal  twenty  feet  deep  and  one  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  wide.  It  is  a  wonderful  piece  of  work.  Its 
locks,  made  of  huge  timbers  driven  down  through  the  mud 
into  the  firm  sand  far  below,  are  the  largest  in  Europe,  and 
its  sides  are  kept  from  being  washed  away  by  the  numerous 
craft  of  every  description  that  pass  constantly  through  it 
by  an  ingenious  arrangement  of  a  thick  growth  of  yielding 
reeds.  This  canal  is  ten  feet  below  the  level  of  the  sea,  and 
it  runs  on  one  level  to  Helder,  a  maritime  town  at  the 
northern  extremity  of  North  Holland  on  the  North  Sea,  fifty 
miles  away.  This  great  work  was  finished  in  1825,  at  the 
cost  of  a  million  pounds  sterling. 

But,  after  nearly  half  a  century's  experience  with  this 
canal,  the  commercial  activity  of  the  people  was  such  that 
it  was  deemed  insufficient,  and  they  determined  to  have  a 
shorter  cut  to  the  North  Sea,  and  at  the  time  of  the  author's 
visit  were  actively  engaged  upon  their  new  North  Sea  Canal. 
If  tlio  reader  will  look  on  the  map,  he  will  see  that  the  nar- 
rowest part  of  tlie  isthmus  connecting  the  provinces  of 
Northern  and  Southern  Holland  is  at  a  point  a  short  distance 
north  of  Haarlem,  between  two  little  stations  on  the  rail- 
way, Velsen  and  Bevervijk,  at  one  end  of  the  Ij ;  through 


452  A  MAGNIFICENT   PUBLIC  WOEK. 

this  narrow  neck  cuts  the  new  canal  to  the  sea,  which  is 
here  not  twenty  miles  from  Amsterdam.  Then  this  canal 
will  go  through  the  Ij  (which,  it  will  be  remembered,  is  a 
sort  of  estuary  or  arm  of  the  Zuyder  Zee)  directly  to  the 
city  proper,  and  that  portion  of  the  Ij  which  is  not  needed 
for  water  commercial  purposes  was  to  be  drained  for  culti- 
vation ;  and  thus  Holland,  while  opening  this  great  highway 
to  the  sea  for  herself,  wrests  a  vast  space  already  occu- 
pied by  the  waves,  from  them  for  agriculture. 

This  work  on  the  Ij  was  in  progress  at  the  time  of  the 
author's  visit,  and  referred  to  with  great  enthusiasm  by  the 
inhabitants  ;  and  well  it  may  be,  for  it  is  one  of  the  greatest 
works  of  the  kind  of  modern  time,  as  a  few  figures,  obtained 
from  authentic  sources,  will  show. 

The  depth  of  water  in  the  canal,  in  the  enormous  locks 
that  separate  it  from  the  sea,  is  twenty-three  feet ;  the  width 
of  its  surface  is  over  two  hundred  feet,  and  nearly  fifteen 
thousand  acres  of  excellent  land  will  be  gained  by  the 
drainage  above  mentioned.  At  the  sea-shore,  the  great  piers 
or  jetties  that  shelter  the  entrance,  run  out  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  in  length,  and  their  foundations  are  thirty  feet 
below  low-water  mark,  and  the  wall  is  carried  eight  feet 
above  high-water  mark.  The  piers  are  built  of  great  blocks 
of  concrete,  twelve  feet  long  by  four  in  breadth,  and  four 
feet  thick.  There  is  twenty-five  feet  depth  of  water  between 
the  piers  at  low  tide.  Close  to  the  shore  they  are  three- 
fourths  of  a  mile  apart,  but  the  entrance  out  in  the  sea  is 
but  seven  hundred  and  fifty  feet  wide.  The  whole  work,  it 
is  cstiaiated,  will  cost  nearly  three  million  pounds  sterling. 
The  North  Holland  Canal  would  admit  vessels  of  but  a 
thousand  tons  burden.  This,  however,  will  admit  much 
larger,  besides  being  a  shorter  route  to  the  ocean.  The 
merchant  fleet  of  Holland  is  nearly  two  thousand  vessels  — 
an  aggregate  of  half  a  million  tons;  its  imports  about 
twenty-five  million  dollars,  and  its  exports  one  hundred  and 
ninety  million  dollars. 


DUTCH   AGRICULTURE.  453 

It  is  well  for  some  of  us  Americans,  who  like  to  boast  of 
our  enterprise  and  great  public  works,  to  look  at  what  the 
people  of  this  little  kingdom  are  doing.  Their  sturdy  perse- 
verance and  thrifty,  constant  industry  rather  belie  the  char- 
acter popularly  accorded  them  of  being  little  else  than 
smokers  of  long  pipes,  drinkers  from  'deep  flagons,  and  fat 
old  fellows  comfortably  dozing  away  their  existence.  The 
Dutch  have  this  advantage  in  their  prosecution  of  agricul- 
ture :  that,  inasmuch  as  the  rich  farming  lands  have  been 
reclaimed  from  water,  they  can  easily,  in  dry  times,  by  the 
same  system  of  windmills,  water-wheels,  and  ditches,  irrigate 
them  or  add  to  their  fertility  ;  and  the  industry  with  which 
they  have  applied  themselves  to  agriculture  fairly  rivals  that 
which  they  displayed  in  their  commercial  operations,  and  has 
for  years  past  steadily  increased  in  importance.  Indeed, 
they  have  become  one  of  the  most  prominent  of  European 
agricultural  peoples,  and  their  rich  fields  and  pastures  re- 
claimed from  the  waters,  sleek  and  well  cared-for  cattle,  and 
heavy  crops,  are  the  admiration  of  visiting  American  agricul- 
turists ;  and  many  of  these  steady  old  Diitch  farmers,  in 
their  quiet  villages,  roll  up  good  comfortable  fortunes. 

The  traveller,  among  other  curious  things  here  in  Holland, 
will  notice  the  fire-buckets,  as  they  may  be  with  propriety 
called,  which  are  used  at  breakfast  and  tea-time  at  the  hotels 
to  keep  water  hot  for  tea  and  coffee.  A  sort  of  metal 
bucket  with  blazing  turf,  upon  which  sits  the  burnished 
copper  teapot,  full  of  boiling  water,  is  brought  into  the 
salle-d-manger,  and  they  are  placed  at  intervals  for  the  use 
of  eight  or  ten  guests,  so  that  perhaps  there  are  half  a  dozen 
of  them  hissing  in  the  room  at  once.  This  turf,  of  which 
one  will  find  there  is  quite  a  large  consumption  among  the 
Dutch  for  culinary  and  manufacturing  purposes,  is  the 
product  of  their  own  peat  bogs.  The  consumption  is  said 
to  amount  to  millions  of  tons  per  annum. 

Although  there  is  in  Holland  "  water,  water  everywhere," 
yet,  owing  to  the  absence  of   springs,  there  is  said  to  be 


454 


THE    PALACE. 


"not  a  drop  to  drink  "  that  is  healthful  to  the  tourist.  In 
Amsterdam  filtered  rain-water  is  used,  and  also  water  that 
is  brought  from  a  reservoir  thirteen  miles  away,  near  Haar- 
lem, but  this  is  not  recommended  ;  indeed,  one  authority 
says,  "  Drink  anything-  but  water  ;  "  which  may  account  for 
some  American  travellers'  desire  to  test  the  drink  of  the 
country,  and  their  orders  for  Hollands  gin  or  Schiedam 
schnapps. 

After  we  had  enjoyed  our  ramble  about  streets  and  canals, 
docks  and  wharves,  our  valet  de  place  was  anxious  we  should 
see  the  Palace,  a  great,  dreary-looking  building  upon  a  sort 
of  square  or  market-place.  The  interior  was  a  disappoint- 
ment, as  it  was  a  damp  sort  of  musty  old  place,  with  noth- 
ing particularly  elegant  in  it  except  a  few  rooms  in  white 
marble.  The  most  striking  apartment  was  the  Council 
Hall,  —  an  apartment  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  lono-, 
fifty-seven  wide,  and  one  hundred  feet  in  height,  in  which 
were  flags  and  trophies  taken  in  various  battles  by  the 
Dutch,  and  remnants  of  the  flags  of  Philip  the  Second  and 
the  Duke  of  Alva. 

The  custodian  especially  directed  our  attention  to  Vene- 
tian glass  chandeliers,  and  bustled  round,  opening  closed-up 
shutters  of  darkened  apartments  in  anticipation  of  a  good 
fee  ;  but  we  did  the  Palace  hastily,  for  upholstery  and  great 
rooms,  after  months'  experience  in  viewing  them,  become 
fatiguing,  especially  when  there  is  but  little  historic  interest 
attached  to  tlicm.  This  palace  is  on  the  largest  square  in 
the  city,  which  is  known  as  the  Dam ;  so  called  for  being 
on  one  side  of  the  most  ancient  dam  of  the  city,  which 
takes  its  name,  it  will  be  recollected,  from  the  river  Amstel 
—  AmHtel-Dam.  The  Exchange,  opposite  the  Palace,  is  a 
handsome  building,  with  a  colonnade  front  and  a  huge  glass- 
covered  interior,  in  which  the  merchants  assemble  daily  for 
the  transaction  of  business. 

The  finest  picture-gallery  in  Holland  is  that  in  Amsterdam, 
known  as  the  Rijks  Museum,  which  is  celebrated  as  being  a 


eembrandt's  night  watch.  455 

genuine  national  collection,  four  hundred  and  eight  of  five 
hundred  and  fifteen  pictures  being  by  Dutch  masters  ;  so  that 
the  art-lover  who  desires  to  study  the  old  Dutch  masters  or 
the  Dutch  school  can  here  have  ample  opportunity  of  so  doing. 
The  first  room  that  the  visitor  enters  contains  two  of  the 
largest  and  most  celebrated  pictures  in  the  collection,  —  The 
Banquet  of  the  Arquebusiers,  by  Van  der  Heist,  and  Rem- 
brandt's Night  Watch.  The  former  is  a  very  spirited  figure 
piece,  and  represents  twenty-five  arquebusiers  the  size  of 
life,  in  various  sitting  and  standing  attitudes,  about  a  boun- 
tifully furnished  table.  These  figures  are  all  portraits  of 
men  who  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago  celebrated  the 
conclusion  of  the  Peace  of  Westphalia  at  a  banquet,  and 
the  artist  has  thus  preserved  them  for  posterity,  —  a  stout, 
hearty,  sturdj^-looking  company  ;  their  rich  velvet  doublets 
trimmed  with  gold,  the  gusto  with  which  some  are  enjoying 
their  potations,  and  their  free  and  easy  attitudes,  either  sit- 
ting or  standing,  being  remarkably  well  executed. 

Rembrandt's  "  Night  Watch,"  as  it  is  called,  is  a  large 
painting,  eleven  by  fourteen  feet  in  size,  and  the  great  mas- 
ter's largest,  and  by  many  deemed  his  most  celebrated  work. 
It  represents  a  company  of  arquebusiers  emerging  from 
their  guard-hous.e,  and  one  of  its  most  remarkable  features 
is  the  wonderfully  effective  manner  in  which  the  artist  has 
managed  the  different  effects  of  light  and  shade.  The  fig- 
ures are  of  life-size,  and  the  painting  is  hung  so  low  as  to 
nearly  touch  the  floor,  which  adds  much  to  its  eifect,  inas- 
much as  the  sturdy,  armed  figures  seem  to  be  advancing  di- 
rectly towards  the  spectator.  The  two  figures  of  a  captain 
and  lieutenant  in  the  middle  foreground,  clad,  the  one  in  a 
black  and  the  other  in  a  buff  costume,  are  in  full  sunlight, 
and  very  effective,  while  behind,  a  figure  of  one  of  the 
guards  adjusting  his  weapon,  and  the  standard-bearer,  are 
very  finely  rendered.  The  effect  of  the  twilight  or  shade 
of  the  hall  from  which  they  are  coming,  and  the  setting 
sunlight  without,  is  very  well  managed  ;  and  the  admirable 


456  OUR   DUTCH   MASTERPIECES. 

arrangement,  natural  and  life-like  attitudes  of  the  figures, 
make  them  to  seem  verily  as  if  they  would  step  out  from 
the  frame  in  their  quaint  costumes  of  1642,  and,  under  the 
command  of  their  captain,  take  an  afternoon  march  to  their 
several  positions  about  the  city  for  tlie  night. 

In  this  room  are  portraits  by  Van  der  Ilelst  (artist  of  the 
first-mentioned  picture),  of  Admiral  Cortanaer,  and  others  ; 
and  in  the  second  I'oom  another  picture  by  Rembrandt,  of 
the  five  directors  of  the  Guild  of  Clothm.akers  in  1661,  also 
portraits.  These  directors  of  the  old  trade  associations 
appear  to  have  been  as  marvellously  fond  of  having  pictures 
painted  of  themselves  as  our  city  government  oflScials  of 
to-day  in  America  are  of  being  photographed  in  committees, 
for  the  next  large  picture  I  encountered  was  a  fine  one  of 
the  directors  of  a  spinning-factory,  five  in  number,  painted 
in  1669  by  Karel  du  Jardin. 

Now,  as  the  visitor  ascends  to  the  other  rooms,  he  begins 
to  find  numerous  gems  of  the  art,  such  as  Ruysdael's  beau- 
tiful Waterfall,  Jan  Steen's  beautiful  picture  of  the  Back- 
gammon Players  and  Parrot,  Hondekoeter's  wonderfully  cor- 
rect picture  of  Ducks,  Poultry,  and  Game,  in  which  his  skill 
at  "  feather "  painting  is  strikingly  illustrated.  Then  we 
come  ta  the  beautifully  finished  pictures  of  Gerard  Duow, 
including  his  Evening  School,  —  a  painting  in  which  the 
eficcts  of  the  light  and  shade  produced  by  candle-light  are 
delineated  with  singular  skill.  It  is  but  fourteen  by  twenty 
inches  in  size,  and,  according  to  one  autliority,  was  pur- 
chased for  the  Museum  for  thirty-seven  hundred  dollars, 
while  another  places  the  cost  at  double  that  amount.  Then 
follow  several  Wouvermans,  Ruj'sdacls,  and  Cuyps  ;  Tenicr's 
Guard  Room  ;  Ostade's  Boors,  smoking ;  Van  Mieris'  Poul- 
try Dealer,  and  other  beautifully  finished  works ;  a  Land- 
scape and  Cattle,  by  Paul  Potter,  cost  five  thousand  dollars  ; 
Snyder's  Game  and  Fruit ;  a  Magdalene  bj'  Van  Dyck  ;  in 
fact,  a  collection  of  old  masters'  choice  works  suflficient  to 
make  the  eyes  of  an  art-lover  sparkle  witii  delight. 


AN   EXCURSION   TO   BROEK.  457 

There  is  another  museum,  that  of  Van  der  Hoop,  consist- 
ing of  about  two  hundred  pictures  left  by  a  banker  of  that 
name,  many  of  which  are  of  rare  merit,  such  as  some  beauti- 
ful examples  of  Jan  Steen  ;  the  Jewish  Bride,  by  Rembrandt; 
a  wonderfully  executed  little  painting  of  a  hermit,  by  Gerard 
Duow,  in  which  the  great  artist  has  put  the  most  astonish- 
ing elaboration  of  details  ;  portraits  by  Rubens  ;  some  of 
Ruysdael's  superb  landscapes  ;  and  specimens  of  Wouver- 
man,  Van  Dyck,  Potter,  and  other  noted  artists. 

An  excursion  that  every  tourist  who  can,  makes  when  he 
visits  Amsterdam,  is  out  to  the  Dutch  village  of  Broek.  We 
did  this  with  carriage  and  guide,  driving  on  to  a  boat  that 
carried  us  across  the  Ij,  after  which  we  had  a  drive  through 
a  little  bit  of  Dutch  landscape  and  farming  land.  At  one 
point  we  passed  by  the  great  dikes,  high  as  the  top  of  our 
carriage,  that  were  keeping  back  the  waters  from  the  miles 
of  fertile  fields,  which  were  plentifully  stocked  with  sleek 
cattle.  Then  we  passed  little  cross  canals,  which  answered 
as  country  cross-roads,  on  which  every  now  and  then  ap- 
peared a  slow-going  sort  of  little  omnibus  canal-boat,  drawn 
by  a  single  horse,  conveying  Dutch  women  with  big  baskets, 
or  blue-bloused  men  with  pipes,  as  passengers.  Then  we 
passed  milkmaids  with  wooden  shoes  and  snowy  caps ;  then 
a  family  boat,  slowly  towed  along  by  a  couple  of  men  ; 
a  hay-boat,  that  ever  and  anon  had  some  of  its  contents 
scraped  oiT  into  the  water,  which  another  little  family  boat 
not  far  behind,  with  a  man,  boy,  and  a  woman  as  crew, 
economically  rescued  from  the  water  as  they  came  to  it, 
spreading  it  out  upon  their  deck  to  dry. 

Upon  some  of  these  canals  we  noted  what  appeared  to  be 
a  stagnant  green  slime  covering  the  surface  of  the  w;ater, 
but  which  our  guide  informed  us  was  "  the  richness  and  fat- 
ness of  the  land  ;  "  and  so  indeed  it  proved,  for  we  found  the 
apparent  slime  to  be  green  seed,  growing  as  it  floated  upon 
the  water.  We  halted  to  view  a  Dutch  farm-house  by  the 
wayside,  the  home  of  a  tolerably  well-to-do  agriculturist,  I 


458  A   cow    SALOON. 

should  judge  by  his  surroundings.  At  any  rate,  the  cow- 
stable  that  we  were  first  ushered  into  was  a  new  experience 
to  those  who  had  only  been  accustomed  to  see  the  manner 
in  which  these  useful  animals  are  cared  for  in  a  New  Eng- 
land barn.  It  being  summer,  the  animals  were  out  in  the 
grazing-lands  for  the  season,  and  the  quarters  they  occupied 
were  in  a  sort  of  holiday  attire.  They  consisted  of  a  long, 
substantially  built  building  of  wood,  the  windows  hung  with 
neat  white  curtains.  The  interior  beams  and  wood-work  were 
either  brightly  scrubbed  or  whitewashed,  not  a  cobweb  or 
stain  to  be  seen.  The  row  of  stalls  that  ran  along  the  sides, 
the  clean  brick  floor,  whitewashed  depressed  stone  gutter  at 
the  rear  of  them,  and  within  some  the  fantastic  arrangement 
of  sand,  which  was  drawn  by  a  broom  into  various  curious 
figures,  were  neat  and  pretty.  In  others,  the  beautiful  ar- 
rangement of  sea-shells  and  pebbles,  and  the  display  of  curi- 
ous old  china  delft-ware  and  pottery,  would  have  made  a 
collector  of  hric-a-hrac  crazy  with  delight,  and  cause  the  in- 
experienced visitor  to  turn  to  his  guide,  and  ask  if  he  cor- 
rectly understood  him  to  say  this  was  a  cow-stable,  thinking 
that  the  word  given  might  have  been  Dutch  for  reception- 
hall. 

This  well-appointed  place,  however,  that  we  were  inspect- 
ing, was  really  the  cows'  home  from  November  to  May,  and 
the  little  apartments,  with  their  curious  museums  of  bric-a- 
brac,  are  at  that  season  of  the  year  the  cows'  stalls,  but,  ac- 
cording to  custom,  are  thus  treated  in  the  summer,  so  that 
the  place  then  becomes  a  novel  sort  of  reception-hall.  In 
the  different  stalls,  besides  china  and  shells,  were  curious 
old  articles  of  furniture  that  had  evidently  been  heirlooms  in 
the  family,  such  as  old  brass  kettles  that  shone  like  burnished 
gold,  antique  snuffers  and  candlesticks  upon  an  old  black 
carved  wood  table,  some  fat  old  pewter  or  silver  flagons,  and 
long  brass-hooped  casks  that  looked  like  big  black  fingers 
with  gold  rings  on  them. 

The  flooring  of  brick,  tlie  ventilation  and  drainage,  which 


DUTCH  CHEESE  MAKING.  459 

were  perfect,  depressed  gutters  for  carrying'  away  the  drop- 
pings, and  the  brick  drinking-trough  that  runs  in  front  of 
the  stalls  for  the  whole  length,  and  is  supplied  by  a  pump 
at  one  end,  showed  that  the  Dutch  farmer  understood  the 
value  of  the  animals  who  contributed  dairy  products,  and 
spared  no  effort  for  their  comfort,  in  which  doubtless  he  found 
return  in  the  quality  and  quantity  of  yield. 

This  farmer,  like  many  others  in  the  vicinity,  was  a  large 
cheese  producer,  and  his  cheese-room  was  next  this  grand 
cow  saloon,  in  fact  opening  out  of  it.  We  were  shown  into 
it  by  a  buxom,  round-armed  Dutch  woman.  The  making  of 
cheese  was  not  in  operation,  but  we  saw  the  big  milk  and 
curd  tub,  curd-knives,  wooden  benches  scoured  white,  the 
well-known  "  pine-apple  "  and  "  cannon-ball  "  moulds,  the 
press  which  takes  in  four  to  six  of  these  moulds  for  their 
seven  or  eight  hours'  pressing,  and  finally  were  conducted 
to  the  magazine  or  storehouse  of  cheeses,  where,  after  being 
salted,  they  are  shelved  to  dry. 

The  cheese-factory  room  was  faultlessly  clean,  the  store- 
room of  cheeses,  where  serried  rows  of  them  stood  in  alcoves 
of  shelves,  like  a  library  of  cheeses,  was  spotless,  dry,  and 
well  lighted.  After  being  thus  shelved,  I  was  informed  that 
they  had  to  be  turned  in  position  every  day  for  a  month, 
and  after  that  every  alternate  day  for  about  the  same  time. 
Another  part  of  the  finishing  process  is  once  bathing  them 
at  a  certain  time  in  tepid  water  and  drying  in  the  open  air, 
and  also  their  being  painted  over  on  the  outside  with  a  thin 
coating  of  linseed-oil. 

The  process  of  making,  before  all  this  finishing,  is  equally 
careful  and  elaborate,  and  great  care  is  taken  that  the  apart- 
ments in  which  they  are  made  and  kept  are  preserved  at  a 
certain  temperature,  and  perfectly  clean  and  dry.  The  salt- 
ing, moulding,  curdling,  and  all  processes  are  carried  on 
with  great  thoroughness  and  exactness,  requiring  a  degree 
of  regularity,  experience,  and  patience  which,  after  one  has 
it  fully  explained,  causes  him  to  have  increased  respect  for 


460  DUTCH    FARM-HOUSE. 

the  Dutch  cheese  aud  its  manufacturers.  The  cheese  pro- 
duct is  something  so  enormous  that  it  assumes  the  position 
of  a  great  industry  of  the  country,  and  fairly  astonishes  one 
who  looks  into  the  statistics  of  it  for  the  first  time  :  the 
province  of  North  Holland  alone  is  reported  to  produce 
twenty-six  million  pounds  of  cheese  per  annum,  and  it  is 
exported  to  almost  every  part  of  the  civilized  world. 

From  the  stables  and  cheese-making  apartments  we  were 
invited  into  some  of  the  rooms  of  the  farm-house,  in  which 
dwelt  the  farmer  and  his  family.  Everywhere  was  visible 
the  Dutch  characteristic  of  neatness,  showing  that  scrub- 
bing, polishing,  and  scouring  must  occupy  no  inconsiderable 
portion  of  a  Dutch  housewife's  time.  Floors  were  white 
and  spotless,  window-glass  transparent  as  air,  brass  work 
rivalled  gold  in  brightness,  and  even  nail-heads  that  were 
visible  reflected  back  the  light  that  fell  upon  them.  The 
furniture  in  the  apartments  we  visited  —  a  parlor  and  sleep- 
ing-rooms —  was  principally  rich,  dark  old  mahogany, 
mounted  with  brass  trimmings.  Much  of  it  was  more  than 
two  hundred  years  of  age,  was  admirably  kept,  and  heir- 
looms in  the  family.  A  store  of  delft  and  curious  old  china 
teacups  and  tea-sets,  plates,  vases,  and  teapots,  such  as 
every  Dutch  family  seems  to  have  more  or  less  of,  was  dis- 
posed about  the  apartment. 

In  the  sleeping-rooms,  seeing  no  beds,  I  was  asked  to 
guess  where  they  were,  but  failed  to  do  so  correctly,  for 
my  conductor  enlightened  me  by  pulling  at  a  sliding  panel 
in  the  wall,  which  glided  away  and  revealed  three  wide 
berths,  or  bunks,  sunk  in  the  place,  one  above  the  other,  —  a 
close,  dark  recess  in  which  to  sleep,  and  one  in  which  I 
should  imagine  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  obtain  the 
amount  of  fresh  air  during  the  hours  of  slumber  to  render 
sleep  refreshing ;  but  the  Dutch,  in-doors,  seem  to  pa}'  little 
regard  to  the  admission  of  air,  if  one  may  judge  from  the 
windows  of  the  rooms  of  their  houses,  which  are  rarely  seen 
open,  but  generally  tightly  closed,  even  in  warm  weather. 


AN    IMMACULATE    VILLAGE.  461 

Mounting  our  carriage  again,  we  drove  on  through  the 
flat  country,  with  its  canal  and  windmill  landscape,  to  our 
destination,  Broek,  which  has  much  celebrity  as  being  one 
of  the  cleanest  towns  in  the  world.  We  halted  at  a  Dutcli 
inn  just  outside,  for  no  vehicles  or  horses  were  admitted  into 
this  immaculate  village,  certainly  not  those  of  tourists.  So 
after  a  lunch  we  entered  on  foot.  The  town  contains  about 
fifteen  hundred  inhabitants,  and  the  streets  are  paved  with 
yellow  bricks,  set  up  edgeways,  or  small  stones  in  the  same 
manner,  and  sometimes  in  various  fantastic  figures ;  they 
were  all  scrupulously  clean  as  if  just  swept  up,  and  I  saw 
one  of  the  street-cleaners  at  work.  He  was  an  old  fellow 
who  was  seated  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  with  a  jack- 
knife  cleaning  away  some  moss  and  weeds  that  had  made 
their  appearance  between  the  interstices  of  the  pavement. 
The  houses  were  of  wood,  with  tiled  roofs;  they  were  nicely 
painted,  and  the  little  flower-gardens,  front  yards,  and  all 
appurtenances  in  apple-pie  order,  as  if  prepared  for  rigorous 
inspection. 

The  tradition  is,  here,  that  the  front  doors  of  the  houses 
are  never  opened  except  for  a  wedding  or  a  funeral.  Some 
houses  were  painted  white,  some  green,  and  others  in  fan- 
tastic hues  that  no  one  but  a  Dutchman  or  Cape  Ccjd  sea- 
captain  would  have  thought  of  ;  but  the  matter  of  cleanli- 
ness and  primness  was  carried  to  such  en  extent  that  the 
place  looked  like  a  toy  village  that  had  been  set  up  for 
somebody's  amusement.  We  visited  one  of  the  houses,  a 
regular  curiosity  shop  of  old  china,  curiosities,  and  bric-a- 
brac,  which  is  kept  as  a  sort  of  specimen  showhouse  for 
visitors,  and  said  to  be  the  oldest  house  in  the  town,  built 
in  1500,  and  one  which  all  pay  a  visit  to,  as  we  found  by 
the  visitors'  book  of  autographs,  and  where,  besides  inspect- 
ing the  curious  Dutch  antiquities  of  tiles,  china,  furniture, 
plate,  and  utensils  for  a  moderate  fee,  you  could  buy  a  little 
antique  cup  and  saucer  for  a  big  price,  or  curious  old  silver 
teaspoons  for  a  much   larger  flgure  ;  but  nevertheless  the 


462  THE    HAGUE. 

collection  was  an  interesting  one  of  Dutch  antiquities,  which 
had  formed  the  life-labor  of  the  old  couple  —  brother  and 
sister  —  who  exhibited  them. 

Their  garden  was  another  curiosity,  where  a  giant  growth 
of  box-plant  had  been  cut  into  the  form  of  a  peacock,  bee- 
hive, chairs,  a  deer,  dogs,  and  various  other  fantastic  shapes, 
and,  after  a  look  at  these  and  another  ramble  through  the 
prim  little  town  to  a  little  toy-looking  square,  with  a  little 
stone  public  building  set  up  in  one  corner  of  it,  and  past 
the  red,  blue,  and  green  houses  with  their  railed-in  gardens, 
and  by  the  little  canal  with  its  still  water  covered  with  green 
scum,  we  took  carriage  outside  the  limits,  rode  to  the  steatn 
ferry,  and  were  paddled  back  to  Amsterdam. 

The  Hague,  or  'S  Graven hage,  we  reached  by  railway 
journey  via  Haarlem,  where  the  high-priced  tulips  came 
from  during  the  tulip  mania  ;  and  Ley  den,  which  is  one  of 
the  oldest  towns  of  Holland. 

The  Hague,  La  Haye,  or  ^S  Gravenhage,  the  latter  being 
the  Dutch  name,  signifying  the  count's  hedge  or  inclosure, 
was  for  hundreds  of  years  the  aristocratic  city  of  Holland, 
and  the  favorite  residence  of  tlie  Dutch  nobility.  It  is  now 
the  chief  abiding-place  of  rich  old  Dutch  merchants  who 
have  made  their  fortunes  in  Japan,  Sumatra,  Batavia,  or 
somewhere  else  in  the  Dutch  East  India  possessions,  and 
come  here  to  this  jiiost  fashionable  and  handsome  city  in 
Holland  to  enjoy  their  wealth,  and  they  do  live  here  sumptu- 
ously and  royally.  The  houses  are  large  and  elegant,  many 
of  them  surrounded  by  beautiful  grounds  and  gardens  ;  the 
streets  are  broad  and  handsome,  paved  with  brick,  and  some 
of  them  lined  with  beautiful  shade-trees  ;  and  the  city  has 
every  appearance,  as  it  is,  of  being  a  handsomely  built  and 
well-governed  European  capital. 

Established  at  the  Bellovue  Hotel,  we  make  excursions 
into  the  somewhat  homelike-looking  streets,  with  their  great 
shade-trees  and  clean  pavements,  and  saunter  through  pleas- 
ant avenues,  till  we  suddenly  come  to  a  handsome  sheet  of 


STATUES    AND    MONUMENTS.  463 

water  in  the  middle  of  the  town,  on  which  black  and  white 
Bwans  are  sailing,  and  having  a  picturesque  little  island  in 
its  centre.  This  is  known  as  the  Vijver,  or  fish-pond,  and 
round  and  about  it  is  a  very  pleasant  and  much-frequented 
promenade  ;  and  not  far  from  here,  in  a  sort  of  open  square, 
stands  a  handsome  bronze  statue  of  Prince  William  II.,  with 
four  allegorical  figures  at  the  sides,  representing  Peace, 
History,  Prosperity,  and  Glory  ;  an  inscription  shows  the 
names  of  Badajos,  Salamanca,  Vittoria,  and  other  battles  at 
which  he  was  present. 

Another  fine  bronze  statue  is  that  of  Prince  William  I., 
who  is  represented  standing  with  one  finger  upraised  as  if 
uttering  his  favorite  motto,  which  is  inscribed  in  Latin  on 
the  pedestal,  a  free  translation  of  which  is,  "  Calm  'mid 
troubled  waters  ;  "  while  another  statue  of  Prince  W^illiam  I. 
on  horseback  adorns  a  space  opposite  the  King's  palace,  its 
pedestal  ornamented  with  the  arms  of  the  provinces  under 
his  sway.  In  the  city  park,  known  as  William's  Park,  is 
a  magnificent  national  memorial  monument  commemorating 
the  restoration  of  Dutch  independence  in  1813,  a  tall  column 
bearing  a  female  figure  which  stands  grasping  a  banner  in 
one  hand  and  a  bunch  of  arrows  in  the  other,  while  the  lion 
of  Netherlands  is  at  her  feet.  The  sides  of  the  pedestal  are 
beautifully  ornamented  with  bronze  figures  of  distinguished 
men,  and  bas-reliefs  representing  memorable  events  in  the 
history  of  the  country. 


464  Rembrandt's  school  of  anatomy. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

The  Picture  Gallery  of  the  Museum  at  the  Hague  contains 
many  fine  examples  of  the  old  masters,  and  two  that  are 
great  celebrities,  namely,  Rembrandt's  School  of  Anatomy, 
and  Paul  Potter's  Bull,  a  life-size  cattle-picture.  The  study 
of  art  is  now  considered  so  necessary  a  portion  of  one's  edu- 
cation that  but  few  tourists  will  omit  visiting  the  great  gal- 
leries in  the  European  capitals  ;  and  this,  like  that  in  Amster- 
dam for  the  study  of  the  Dutch  school,  is  one  that  should  by 
no  means  be  passed  over.  It  contains  nearlj^  three  hundred 
pictures.  Among  them  are  the  productions  of  such  artists 
as  Snyder,  Wouvermans,  Rubens,  Rembrandt,  Gerard  Duow, 
Van  Ostade,  Jan  Steen,  Van  Dyck,  Holbein,  and  Diirer.  Look 
at  this  list  of  names,  and  see  what  an  artistic  treat  is  before 
the  art  lover  in  such  a  collection  as  this. 

Many  who  have  never  seen  Rembrandt's  picture.  The 
School  of  Anatomy,  may  have  seen  engravings  of  it.  It 
represents  an  anatomist  dissecting  the  left  arm  of  a  dead 
body  that  lies  before  him,  and  lecturing  thereon  to  a  group 
that  stand  about  him.  The  figures  are  all  of  large  size,  and 
are  eight  in  number.  The  lecturer,  Nicholas  Tulp,  sits  at  the 
table,  with  one  hand  holding  an  anatomical  instrument  rest- 
ing upon  the  subject,  and  the  other  upraised  in  the  attitude 
of  explanation.  He  has  a  broad-brimmed  hat  upon  his  head, 
but  his  companions  are  all  uncovered,  and  the  delineations 
of  their  heads  and  various  expressions  of  countenance  are 
magnificently  done,  more  especially  that  of  one  seated,  who 
is  bending  eagerly  forward  to  examine  the  progress  made  by 
the  demonstrator,  and  another  immediately  behind,  looking 
over  his  shoulder.  These  figures  are  portraits  of  members 
of  the  Guild  of  Surgeons  of  Amsterdam  ;  indeed  the  picture 


PAUL  potter's  bull.  465 

was  originally  painted  by  the  artist  for  the  Anatomical  Insti- 
tute of  Amsterdam, 

The  representation  of  the  corpse  upon  the  dissecting- 
table  is  horribly  real  ;  and  the  surrounding  figures,  in  their 
sombre  black  garments,  and  with  their  serious  faces,  so 
natural  and  life-like,  have  a  peculiarly  striking  effect ;  and 
the  whole  scene  possesses  a  sort  of  terrible  attraction  that 
draws  the  visitor  to  look  at  it,  perhaps  twice  or  thrice,  after 
having  concluded  a  first  inspection,  much  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  one  might  be  supposed  to  be  attracted,  by  morbid 
curiosity,  to  take  another  look  into  a  dissecting-room  at  which 
he  had  obtained  a  single  surreptitious  glance.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  of  the  picture's  being  a  most  faithful  representation  ; 
and,  as  an  artistic  production,  the  dullest  comprehension 
cannot  fail  to  acknowledge  it  at  first  sight.  It  was  bought 
by  King  William  I.  for  about  twenty-five  thousand  dollars. 

Paul  Potter's  Bull  is  simply  a  magnificently  correct 
life-size  painting  of  a  young  bull,  whose  clear,  liquid  eye, 
dewy  nostril,  and  shaggy  frontlet  are  so  true  to  nature,  that, 
after  gazing  at  it  a  while,  one  would  scarcely  be  surprised 
to  see  the  young  lord  of  the  herd  walk  forth  from  the  frame 
or  stretch  forth  his  shaggy  head  with  challenging  roar  to 
another  bovine  champion.  Besides  the  bull  in  this  painting, 
there  are  two  or  three  sheep,  a  cow  lying  down  upon  tlie 
green  turf,  and  an  old  shepherd  leaning  over  a  fence,  all 
being  of  life-size,  and  all  of  which  will  bear  the  closest  in- 
spection, —  luilike  many  paintings  of  our  more  modern 
school,  especially  in  America,  which,  we  are  told,  must  not 
be  closely  examined,  but  at  a  distance  ;  imagination,  effect 
of  lights  and  shades,  and  other  characteristics  (which  the 
author,  who  does  not  pretend  to  be  an  art  critic,  does  not 
recall),  giving  the  true  effect  to  the  composition.  A  large 
proportion  of  the  great  masters  of  the  art,  however,  judg- 
ing from  their  works,  seem  to  have  produced  the  efiects 
themselves,  leaving  but  little  for  the  spectator  to  supply  by 
either  distance,  light,  or  imagination. 
30 


466  GEMS    OF    ART. 

Another  picture,  which  has  quite  an  artistic  celebrity,  is  a 
beautifully  finished  one  b}'  Jan  Stoen,  which  is  entitled  "  A 
Representation  of  Human  Life,"  though  why,  I  cannot  iui- 
ag-ine,  as  it  represents  about  twenty  persons,  old  and  young, 
apparently  in  a  public  house,  eating  oysters.  There  is  an 
old  man  dandling  a  child  ;  a  young  woman  cooking  oysters 
on  the  half-shell  ;  a  party  at  table  ;  man  sitting  at  window, 
being  offered  wine  by  servant  ;  children  upon  the  floor ; 
group  in  the  background,  —  all  finely  executed,  and  the 
effects  of  light  and  shade  most  artistically  managed,  and 
details  most  carefully  presented.  This  is  said  to  be  one  of 
the  best  pictures  of  this  artist,  who,  besides  being  a  painter, 
was  a  tavern-keeper ;  hence,  he  enjoyed  ample  opportunity 
in  studying  the  scenes  of  tavern-life,  which  he  depicts  with 
such  genial  humor  and  expression. 

I  halted  opposite  a  beautiful  picture  by  Van  Ostade,  which 
represented  a  wandering  musician  opposite  a  village  ale- 
house, and  entertaining  six  or  eight  persons,  —  which  was 
wonderfully  good,  with  its  contrasted  cool  shade,  warm, 
bright  sunlight,  and  clambering  vine  over  the  inn-door,  and 
beehives  and  foliage  in  the  background. 

Then,  among  other  gems,  was  one  of  Snyder's  vegetable 
and  game  pieces  ;  a  beautiful  picture  of  a  poultry-yard  by 
Jan  Steen,  with  ducks,  pigeons,  and  fowls,  girl  and  lamb,  and 
other  figures.  Boys  blowing  Soap  Bubbles,  by  Van  Mieris, 
was  a  most  exquisitely  finished  picture.  Then  there  is  a 
Stag  Hunt,  by  Snyder ;  Carriage  and  Horses,  by  Wouver- 
mans  ;  Alchemist,  by  Teniers  ;  a  most  beautiful  picture  by 
Gerard  Duow,  a  perfect  gem  in  finish  and  efiect,  called 
"The  Young  Housekeeper,"  of  a  lady  with  child  in  cradle 
and  servant ;  Rembrandt's  fine  picture  of  Presentation  in 
the  Temple,  —  one  of  his  earliest  works  ;  a  beautifully 
painted  Virgin  and  Child,  by  Murillo  ;  Waterfall,  by  Ruys- 
daol ;  portraits  by  Velasquez,  Van  Dyck,  Holbein,  and  Al- 
bx'echt  Diirer, 

The  portion  of  the  Museum  devoted  to  curiosities  con- 


DUTCH   HISTORICAL   RELICS.  467 

tains  a  very  larg-e  collection  of  relics  connected  with  the 
history  of  the  Netherlands,  and  an  extensive  and  interesting' 
display  of  curiosities  from  the  Dutch  East  India  possessions, 
also  from  India,  China,  and  Japan. 

The  Japanese  collection  was  particularly  rich  and  inter- 
esting-, containing  domestic  and  warlike  instruments,  dresses, 
and  costumes,  tools,  vases,  and  ornaments,  beautiful  porce- 
lain curiosities,  and  figures  fully  clad  in  rich  costumes,  and 
representations  of  manners  and  customs  of  the  people.  A 
similar  collection  of  Chinese  curiosities  filled  a  room  ;  and 
among  them  were  representations  of  a  Chinese  court  of 
justice  and  execution,  mandarins  and  other  figures  in  full 
costume.  Another  room  was  devoted  to  costumes,  weap- 
ons, implements,  and  other  objects  from  the  Dutch  East 
Indies. 

Among  the  curiosities  are  relics  of  William  of  Orange, 
the  founder  of  Dutch  liberty,  who  was  assassinated,  in 
1584,  at  Delft,  and  the  dress  worn  by  him  at  that  time  is, 
of  course,  the  most  interesting.  The  armor  of  Admiral  De 
Ruyter  is  here,  and  the  baton  of  Admiral  Hein,  another 
stanch  old  Dutch  sailor,  who  captured  the  Spanish  silver- 
fleet  in  1628,  and  brought  about  ten  million  dollars  into 
the  Treasury.  Another  relic  of  Dutch  naval  bravery  is 
Lieutenant  Van  Speyk's  sword,  and  fragments  of  his  gun- 
boat, which,  when  it  was  driven  on  the  enemy's  coast  in 
1831,  and  he  was  surrounded  by  his  foes  and  summoned  to 
surrender,  he  blew  up  by  firing  his  pistol  into  the  powder- 
magazine.  The  bowl  and  wooden  goblet  of  the  Gueux,  or 
"  Beggars,"  the  first  revolutionary  party  in  the  Nether- 
lands, who  banded  themselves  together  against  Spanish 
rule,  and  sought  the  abolition  of  the  Inquisitorial  courts, 
are  shown  :  each  of  the  confederates,  in  token  of  his  ad- 
herence to  the  band,  struck  a  nail  into  this  wooden  goblet. 
Another  goblet  is  shown  that  was  used  by  General  Chassd, 
who  defended  Antwerp  against  the  French  in  1832  ;  gold 
chain  and  medal,  presented  to  Admiral  De  Ruyter,  and  very 


468  THE    "  HOUSE    IN    THE    WOOD." 

many  other  relics,  interesting  as  a  national  collection,  or  to 
those  M^ho  are  well  read  up  in  the  history  of  the  United 
Netherlands  and  the  Dutch  Republic. 

A  delightful  drive  is  that  to  the  Queen's  Palace,  or  the 
"  House  in  the  Wood,"  as  it  is  called,  about  two  miles  from 
the  city.  It  is  a  very  plain  brick  building,  but  surrounded 
by  beautiful  grounds.  Tiie  apartments,  which  we  were  per- 
mitted to  visit,  were  very  interesting,  and  beautifully  fur- 
nished. 

The  Orange  Saloon,  so  called,  is  a  superb  eight-sided 
saloon,  lighted  principally  from  a  cupola  above  ;  its  walls 
are  fifty  feet  in  height,  and  covered  with  paintings  illus- 
trating scenes  in  the  life  of  Prince  Frederick  William  of 
Orange. 

The  Japanese  Room  was  quite  a  wonder  in  its  display  of 
elegant  Japanese  work,  all  its  fittings  and  furnishings  being 
in  that  style.  The  walls  were  panelled  in  black  and  gold 
lacquer,  and  the  centre  of  the  panels  filled  with  rich  white 
silk,  upon  which  were  embroidered  birds,  flowers,  plants,  and 
insects,  in  bright  colors,  and  in  the  most  elaborate  and  ele- 
gant manner.  Great  chandeliers  of  quaint  designs  of  gilt 
bronze  hung  down  with  a  sort  of  Japanese  cup-and-suucer 
arrangement  for  the  lights,  with  gilded  brass  ornaments 
between.  Superb  Japanese  vases  and  bronze  figures  were 
scattered  about  the  saloon  ;  the  chairs  were  of  black  lacquer 
and  gilt,  with  superb  embroidered  white  silk  cushions,  in 
harmony  with  the  wall-upholstery  and  curtains  ;  rich  porce- 
lain, costly  sofas,  and  lacquered  inlaid  tables,  and  silken 
hangings  of  the  richest  description,  curiosities  and  wonders 
from  the  Mikado's  empire,  were  scattered  in  rich  profusion 
on  every  side. 

The  other  apartments  were  beautifully  decorated,  and 
contained  many  fine  pictures,  to  which  we  could  give  but 
cursory  examination.  Returning,  we  met  the  Queen's  car- 
riage, a  heavy,  gilded  affair,  without  any  attendants  save 
coachman  and  footman  ;  and  the  Queen,  who  was  its  only 


SCHEVENINGEN.  469 

occupant,  returned  the  salutation  of  our  party  with  a  pleasant 
smile  and  bow. 

Coming  back,  we  paid  a  brief  visit  to  the  Zoological  Gar- 
den, which  has  but  a  small  collection  of  specimens,  and  fin- 
ished up  the  excursion  with  a  drive  in  the  beautiful  park 
which  is  known  as  Het  Bosch,  —  a  favorite  resort  for  the 
wealthier  citizens,  who  enjoy  its  pleasant  avenues  as  their 
carriages  roll  over  the  well-kept  roads  and  beneath  the 
shade  of  its  stately  trees. 

We  must  not  leave  The  Hague  without  visiting  Scheven- 
ingen,  the  chief  watering-place  in  Holland,  and  which  is  but 
about  two  and  a  half  miles  distant.  Although  there  were 
three  or  four  conveyances,  such  as  omnibus,  canal-boat,  and, 
I  really  believe,  a  horse  railway,  we  preferred,  for  comfort's 
sake,  to  take  a  private  carriage. 

The  ride  was  a  most  delightful  one,  over  a  splendid  road, 
which  was  macadamized,  or,  I  may  say  more  correctly, 
paved,  with  closely-set,  small  stones.  It  was  shaded  by 
magnificent  trees,  in  double  and  sometimes  triple  rows,  on 
either  side  ;  and  you  pass  beautiful  estates,  picturesque 
country  houses,  and  reaches  of  pleasant  views,  during  the 
brief  ride,  while  the  well-kept,  dashing  equipages  that  are 
met  remind  one  of  the  season  at  Newport  or  Saratoga,  and 
that  we  are  approaching  one  of  the  chosen  resorts  of  fashion. 

Scheveningen  itself  is  but  a  fishing-village,  located  be- 
hind the  dunes,  or  sand-hills,  of  the  coast  of  the  North  Sea  ; 
literally  behind  them,  for,  as  you  pass  through  the  village 
or  beyond  on  the  route  to  the  fashionable  resort  itself,  the 
beach  is  hidden,  as  is  the  sea,  from  view  by  the  gradual  rise 
of  the  ground,  or  sand-dunes.  Arriving  at  the  crest  of 
these,  and  you  come  at  once  upon  great  modern  watering- 
place  hotels,  saloons,  restaurants,  booths,  and  all  those 
modern  structures  and  adjuncts  which  one  finds  at  fashion- 
able seaside  watering-places.  At  the  great  hotel  of  the 
baths,  which  is  the  property  of  The  Hague,  the  crowd  of 
visitors  was  immense,  and  the  attendance  as  bad,  and  the 


470  A    DUTCH    WATERING-PLACE. 

prices  as  extravagantly  high  as  they  always  are  at  such 
places,  before  a  stranger  gets  acquainted  sufficiently  to 
command  the  first  and  accommodate  himself  to  the  second. 
The  great,  broad  beach  —  a  magnificent  one  for  bathing  — 
had  a  long  line  of  bathing-machines  ranged  along  like  a  halt 
of  the  baggage-wagons  of  an  army,  only  they  were  wagons 
all  with  their  shafts  pointed  shoreward,  were  roofed  over, 
had  a  window  in  their  wooden  sides,  and  their  rear  end 
adorned  with  a  great  hood  or  screen  towards  the  sea. 
These,  as  many  are  aware,  are  a  sort  of  private  bath-room 
on  wheels,  which  is  fitted  up  with  pegs,  mirrors,  towels, 
soap,  &c.,  and  are  drawn  into  the  water  to  a  certain  depth, 
so  that  the  occupants  may  descend  easily  from  them,  take 
their  sea-bath,  and  return  to  the  vehicle  and  dress  entirely 
free  from  observation,  and  avoid  that  long,  dripping  walk 
from  the  waves  to  the  bath-house,  so  dreaded  in  America  by 
ladies  who,  when  in  full  toilette,  may  excite  admiration,  but 
after  a  sea  dip  are  anything  but  attractive. 

Then  there  were  whole  regiments  of  bath-chairs,  tall, 
covered,  and  shaded  at  side  and  top,  made  of  basket-work, 
and  each  having  a  little  footstool  in  front.  In  these  com- 
fortable seats,  facing  the  sea,  in  bright  weather,  and  shaded 
from  the  sun,  sit  visitors  reading  or  chatting  in  groups, 
ladies  knitting  worsted  work,  and  gentlemen  smoking,  or 
looking  out  to  sea  with  glasses,  or  enjoying  the  air  and  the 
lively  scene  about  them.  While  we  were  at  the  beach,  a 
brisk  squall  set  in,  followed  b}-^  a  storm  of  rain,  driving 
every  one  to  shelter,  and  the  rising  wind  sent  in  the  dashing 
billows  of  the  North  Sea  in  great,  tumbling,  furious  waves, 
high  upon  the  beach. 

We  prepared  with  some  regret  to  leave  the  Hollow 
Land,  the  countrj'-  of  dikes  and  dams,  windmills,  and  clean- 
liness. Our  first  fifteen  minutes'  railway  ride  from  The 
Hague  carried  us  to  Delft,  on  through  Schiedam,  with  the 
black  smoke  of  its  gin-distilleries  rising  in  the  clear  air,  till 
we  reached  Rotterdam,  through  which  we  rode  on  our  way 


MAGNIFICEXT    RAILWAY    BRIDGE.  471 

en  route  for  Brussels.  Rotterdam,  what  little  of  it  we  had 
opportunity  of  observing-,  was  similar  in  many  respects  to 
Amsterdam,  although  the  cleanliness  and  order  was  not  by 
any  means  so  marked.  The  great  canals,  however,  seemed 
to  admit  vessels  of  the  heaviest  tonnage  to  the  very  centre 
of  the  city,  and  their  presence,  receiving  and  discharging 
cargoes,  as  well  as  that  of  the  numerous  huge  barges,  filled 
with  merchandise,  in  the  canals,  impresses  the  visitor  with 
the  commercial  importance  of  the  place.  At  Dort  we  had 
a  good  view  of  the  town  and  its  church,  with  its  peculiar 
large  square  tower ;  and  on  arrival  at  Moerdyck  admired 
one  of  the  most  magnificent  railway  bridges  in  the  world, 
completed  in  1811,  to  avoid  the  three  ferries  which  trav- 
ellers were  formerly  obliged  to  use.  This  superb  structure 
is  about  a  mile  and  two-thirds  ia  length,  crosses  an  arm  of 
the  sea  at  this  point,  and  is  upheld  by  fourteen  magnificent 
arches,  each  having  a  span  of  three  hundred  and  thirty  feet. 
The  iron  bridge  itself  is  upheld  by  fourteen  stone  buttresses, 
each  fifty  feet  long  and  ten  feet  wide.  At  Breda  we  had 
an  outside  view  of  the  Protestant  church,  which  has  a 
beautiful  spire  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  feet  in  height ; 
and  from  here  continued  our  journey  by  rail  on  to  Antwerp, 
and  thence  to  Brussels,  the  Paris  of  Belgium. 

I  was  awakened  next  morning  by  the  cheerful  notes  of  a 
bugle,  playing  that  old-fashioned  melody,  "The  Mellow 
Horn,"  the  words  of  which  begin,  — 

"At  dawn  Aurora  gayly  breaks 
In  all  her  proud  attire  ;  " 

and  looking  forth  from  my  casement,  saw  the  well-remem- 
bered English  stage-coach,  with  its  spanking  team  of  grays, 
drive  into  the  Place  Boyale  and  halt  near  the  statue  of 
Godfrey  de  Bouillon  for  a  freight  of  passengers  for  the  field 
of  Waterloo,  exactly  as  I  had  before  seen  it,  and  as  though 
it  wore  but  yesterday,  instead  of  six  years  previously,  that 
1  had  looked  upon  the  same   scene,  and  figured   as  one  of 


472  BACK   TO    PARIS. 

the  interested  actors  in  it,  as  I  climbed  to  the  roof,  eager 
to  visit  the  scene  where  the  fate  of  the  modern  C^sar  was 
finally  decided.  But  we  are  to  rest  here  for  a  brief  period ; 
and  the  sights  having  all  been  inspected  at  a  previous  visit, 
there  is  but  a  lounge  into  the  picture-stores  and  galleries, 
and  an  inspection  there  of  the  latest  productions  of  Robie 
and  Verboekhoeven  ;  or  the  ladies  to  visit  Julie  Everaert's 
parlors  at  4  Place  Belliard  Rue  Roijale,  to  look  at  and  buy 
of  her  beautiful  lace  work,  before  we  once  more  take  train 
for  the  gay  capital  of  France. 

* 

Arrived  in  Paris,  and,  as  the  reader  has  already  inferred, 
our  tour  Abroad  Again  is  over ;  and  yet,  much  as  has  been 
seen,  and  described  in  these  pages  during  the  six  months' 
experiences  here  set  down,  the  lover  of  travel  will  doubtless, 
if  he  goes  over  the  same  routes  and  visits  the  same  sights, 
experience  in  some  degree  the  feeling  of  the  author,  who 
found  the  time  far  too  short  to  see  all  as  he  could  wish  to 
see  it. 

The  author  has  endeavored  in  this  work,  like  his  former 
one  of  a  similar  character,  to  give  faithful  descriptions  of 
the  sights  and  scenes  in  the  various  localities  visited,  and 
has  supplied  many  details  of  information  which  he  himself 
sufiered  from'  the  want  of  while  abroad,  and  which  have 
been  obtained  in  the  preparation  of  these  papers  by  the 
consultation  of  numerous  authorities  since  his  return.  Es- 
pecially was  this  the  case  in  describing  the  Vatican  and 
other  museums,  in  many  instances  where  neither  guide- 
books nor  local  catalogue  gave  any  information  beyond  the 
bare  title  of  an  object  which  often  proved  to  be  one  which 
a  few  explanatory  lines  rendered  extremely  interesting. 

The  space  of  time  occupied  in  making  this  tour  may  of 
course  be  materially  shortened  ;  indeed,  some  tourists  ac- 
complish a  journey  to  nearly  if  not  all  the  places  that  the 
author  has  described  in  the  "Over the  Ocean  "  and  "Abroad 
Again  "  papers,  which  cover  about  thirteen  months  of  dili- 


GUIDE    BOOKS.  473 

geiit  travel,  in  less  than  half  tliat  time.  But  it  may  well 
be  questioned  if  the  knowledge  thus  gained  is  of  permanent 
benefit. 

A  jonrney  to  Europe  the  average  American  now  puts 
down  as  one  of  the  probabilities  instead  of  the  possibilities 
of  his  life,  and  the  annual  influx  of  American  tourists  has 
come  to  be  so  looked  and  prepared  for  of  late  years  by  the 
hotel-keepers  and  shop-keepers  of  the  principal  European 
capitals,  that  any  diminution  of  the  number  of  money- 
spending  visitors  is  noted  and  felt.  A  question  that  is  fre- 
quently asked  by  new  tourists,  and  one  that  is  in  some 
respects  difficult  to  answer,  is,  What  is  the  best  guide-book 
to  use  ?  The  requirements  of  tourists  vary  so  much,  owing 
to  differences  of  taste  and  education,  that  such  as  might  bo 
of  value  to  one  would  be  cumbersome  to  another.  For 
practical  usefulness  and  reliability  as  i-egards  hotels,  routes, 
charges,  notable  sights,  &c.,  Baedeker's  Guides  I  think  to 
be  the  best  of  the  foreign  publications.  Mui-ray's  are  fuller 
in  description,  give  criticisms,  extracts  from  noted  writers, 
and  in  that  respect  furnish  material  for  callow  correspond- 
ents to  draw  from  for  home  letters,  but  they  are  cumber- 
some. BraJshaw's  Continental  Handbook  is  such  a  puzzle, 
that  it  is  a  common  expression  that  you  must  have  a  guide 
to  Bradshaw  to  understand  it.  Of  the  American  guide- 
books of  Europe,  Fttridge's,  published  b}^  Harper  and 
Brothers,  is  rich  in  maps  and  other  information,  wlaich  is 
corrected  yearly  by  the  author.  "  The  Satchel  Guide," 
published  by  Ilurd  &  Houghton,  of  Boston,  also  corrected 
every  year,  will  however  be  found  a  mtjdel  of  compactness 
and  correctness  to  those  who  desire  to  economize  space. 
D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  of  New  York,  have  published  a  scries 
of  good  illustrated  hand-books.  These  different  descrip- 
tions are  those  now  most  used  by  travellers,  although  each 
year  brings  new  competitors  into  the  field. 

That  to  see  sights  thoroughly,  and  especially  tlioroughly 
enough   to   make   notes  of  them   and  write  a  book  thereon, 


474  GOODBYE  TO  THE  READER. 

requires  labor  of  no  slight  character,  there  is  no  denying. 
The  Bard  of  Avon  writes,  however,  "  The  labor  we  delight 
in  physics  pain  ;  "  so  the  pleasure  of  vividly  recalling 
onjoj'able  scenes,  years  after  they  have  been  witnessed,  for 
our  own  gratification  as  well  as  that  of  others,  is  the  com- 
pensation in  some  degree  derived  for  making  a  business  of 
one's  sight-seeing. 

The  author,  in  taking  leave  of  the  readers  who  have  fol- 
lowed him  through  this  second  series  of  experiences,  will 
feel  more  than  gratified  if  he  has  succeeded  in  imparting 
information  that  will  be  of  practical  service  to  those  about 
to  make  the  journey,  or  if  he  has  recalled  pleasant  memories 
to  such  as  have  visited  the  localities  referred  to  in  these 
pages.  Or  if  he  has  been  still  more  fortunate  in  enabling 
such  as  stay  at  home,  to  picture  correctly  in  imagination  the 
sights  and  scenes  he  has  undertaken  to  describe. 


THE    END. 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY  LEE  &  SIIEPARD. 


By  the  Author  of  "■Abroad  Again:'' 

Over   the    Ocean; 

OR,  SIGHTS  AND  SCENES  IN  EOUEIGN  LANDS. 
By  CURTIS  GUILD, 

Author  of  "Abroad  Again,"  and  Editor  of  tlie  Bjstoii  Commercial  Bulletin. 

One  Vol.,  Ckowx  8vo.    Paper,  — ;  Cloth,  $2.50. 

This  book  has  not  only  become  a  favorite  among  the  reading  public,  but 
is  now  generally  accepted  as  one  of  the  best  guides  to  Europe  ever  pul)- 
lished.  "Whether  describing  Westminster  Abbey,  or  York  Minster,  Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon, or  the  streets  of  London;  the  wonders  of  the  Louvre,  or  the 
gayeties  and  glitter  of  Paris;  the  grandeur  of  the  Alpine  passes;  the  quaint- 
ness  of  old  continental  cities  ;  experiences  of  post  travel ;  the  romantic  beauties 
of  the  Italian  lakes ;  the  underground  wonders  of  Adelsburg,  or  the  aqueous 
highways  of  Venice; — the  author  aims  to  give  many  minute  particulars, 
which  foreign  letter-writers  deem  of  too  little  importance  to  mention,  but 
which,  nevertheless,  are  of  great  interest  to  the  reader." 


"A  Close  Observer  of  the  Manners  and  Customs." 

"The  utmost  that  any  European  tourist  can  hope  to  do  is  to  tell  the  old  story  in  a  some- 
what fresh  way,  and  Mr.  Guild  has  succeeded,  at  many  points  of  his  book,  in  doing  this. 
He  goes  over  the  beaten  track  of  Ireland,  Scotland,  England,  France,  Germany,  Austria, 
and  Switzerland,  with  a  visit  to  Venice  and  Florence,  a  close  observer  of  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  natives,  and  with  a  Yankee  capacity  for  learning  their  ways  and  tricks.  '  Over 
the  Ocean  '  will  be  a  pleasant  refresher  to  those  who  liave  gone  before,  and  a  valuable  guide- 
book to  those  who  are  to  come  after.  Many  of  Mr.  Guild's  descriptions  of  scenery  and 
sights  are  extremely  grophic,  and  his  hints  to  travellers  are  frequently  very  practical."  — 
Evening  Bulletin,  Phila. ,  Pa. 

"The  31ost  Perfect  Pen-Pictures  of  Sights  and  Scenes." 

"This  is  certainly  a  collection  of  some  of  the  most  perfect  pen-pictures  of  siehts  and 
scenes  in  foreign  lands  we  have  ever  read.  The  author  carries  the  reader  in  imagination  to 
the  very  scenes  lie  himself  has  witnessed,  conveying  as  vivid  an  idea  of  the  pl.ices  seen  as 
could  be  conveyed  to  one  who  has  never  visited  Europe.  Many  minute  particulars  are  also 
given,  such  as  foreign  letter-writers  deem  of  too  little  importance  to  be  mentioned,  yet  which 
are  of  great  intere>t  to  the  general  reader."  —  Sentinel,  Eastport,  Me. 

"The  Most  Complete  Book  of  Foreign  Travel." 

"There  is  no  end  to  the  books  on  European  travel  that  have  from  time  to  time  appeared, 
and  thev  pretty  much  a.l  go  over  the  same  ground,  but  in  following  Mr.  Guild's  narrative, 
one  almost  forgets  that  he  ever  read  of  the  countries  beyond  the  seas  be'ore,  for  the  subject 
is  presented  in  such  a  graphic  and  lively  manner  that  the  reader  almost  fancies  that  he  is 
actually  witnessing  the  scenes  and  experiencing  the  emotions  portrayed  and  expn  s^ed  by  the 
writer.  The  vohune  is  so  minute  in  detail  that  it  serves  as  a  guide-book  of  travel,  as  well 
as  one  of  entertainment.  Valuable  hints  and  information  are  given  about  the  best  hotels, 
and  the  names  of  shops  in  London  and  Paris  are  mentioned  where  Americans  can  find 
reasonable  prices,  &c.  It  is  the  most  complete  book  of  foreign  travel  that  has  ever  ap- 
peared. ' '  —  U?iio>i,  Springfield,  Mass. 

"  He  has  given  Us  a  Life-like  Picture." 

"The  habits  of  observation  acquired  by  the  author  of  this  charming  hook,  during  many 
years'  constant  occupation  as  a  Journalist,  have  proved  so  far  a  second  nature  to  him,  that 
upon  whatever  'sight  or  scene  '  his  facile  pen  was  turned,  he  has  given  us  a  lite-like  picture. 
Europe  'is  done  '  in  a  style  that  must  serve  as  an  invaluable  guide  to  those  who  intend  to 
go  'over  the  ocean,'  as  well  as  furnish  every  one  with  an  agreeable  book  for  a  half-hour's 
entertainment."  —  Citizen,  Halifax,  N.  S. 


{t^  Sold  hij  all  Booksellers  and  J^'eiosdealcrs. 

LEE  &  SIIEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY  LEE  &  SIIEPARD. 

New  Editions  of  Favorite  Books  of  Travel. 


Beaten   Paths; 

OR,  A  WOMAN'S  VACATION. 

By    Mrs.    ELLA    W.    THOMPSON. 

One  Vol.    16mo.    Cloth.     $L.50. 

"  The  author  seems  to  liave  hit  upon  just  the  most  charmini?  thing's  to  see, 
nid  carried  to  them  a  wealth  of  legend  and  romance  and  history  which  has 
enabled  her  to  till  every  storied  scene  with  its  own  appropriate  yhosts."  —  Ntw 
York   Tribune. 

An  American  Girl  Abroad. 

By  ADELINE  TRAFTON, 

Author  of  "  Katherine  Earle. " 

One  Volume.     12mo.    Illustrated.    $1.50. 

"  A  bright  good-natured  narrative  of  a  European  tour,  which  will  he  pleasant 
reading  for  alL"  —  Boston  Advertiser. 

"The  American  Girl  is  a  bright,  meriy -hearted  girl,  '  oif  for  a  good  time; ' 
and  she  and  her  readers  are  of  opinion  that  the  journey  was  a  decided  success." 
—  Liberal  Christian,  New  York. 

GETTING    TO    PARl'S^ 

A  BOOK  OF  PRACTICE  IN  FRENCH  CONVERSATION. 
By  FRANCIS  S.  WILLIAMS,  A.  M., 

Author  of  "  English  into  French." 
12mo.    Clotu.    $1.75. 

The  first  part  of  this  hook  consists  of  conversations  in  English,  connected 
with  or  arising  out  of  the  intended  and  accomplished  journey  of  a  well-to-do 
family  from  Boston  to  Paris.  From  the  first  announcement  of  the  intention  to 
travci,  a  continuous  story,  lively -as  well  as  instructive,  is  told  in  dialogue;  that 
is,  all  the  preliminaries  of  getting  on  hoard  tlie  Havre  steamer  at  New  York, 
tlie  incidents  of  the  voyage,  the  table-talk,  the  landing  in  France,  the  remaining 
journey,  and  the  arrival  at  the  Grand  Hotel,  Paris. 

([[3=  The  other  half  of  the  book  is  a  translation  of  these  dialogues  into  French. 

It  is  more  amusing  than  many  novels.  Its  advantage  as  a  text-book  is  its 
conversational  style  and  simplicitj-.     The  Boston  Traveller  says  :  — 

"  The  book  is  good  reading  merelv  for  a  book.  The  facts  of  practical  value 
arc  numerous.  The  preface  lays  down  the  rules  by  which  the  student  and 
learner  should  be  guided.  It  is  a  charming  book,  and  without  being  a  novel, 
has  all  the  interest  of  one." 

•  The  book  can  be  obtained  in  separate  parts  :  English,  $\  ;  French,  f  1. 


J)0-  Sold  by  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers. 

LEE  &  SIIEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY  LEE  &  SHEPAED. 

A   Great  National  Work. 

THE     COMPLETE 

Works  of  Charles  Sumner. 

In  Elegant  Croimi  Svo  Vols.     With  Portrait,  Notes,  and  Index. 
Eleven  Volumes  noio  ready. 

Price  per  Vol.,  Fine  English  Cloth, ^3.00 

"        "        "      Half  Calf,  gilt  extra,  Librart  Ed.  .    .     5.00 

{Sold  hy  Subscription.) 

This  edition  will  comprise  the  Orations,  Senatorial  Speeches,  and  the 
Miscellaneous  Addresses,  Letters,  and  Papers  of  Mr.  Sumner  through 
his  whole  public  life,  and  will  be  one  of  the  noblest  contributions  to  our  national 
history  and  literature  ever  published.  It  has  peculiar  claims  upon  the  pride 
and  patriotism  of  every  American  citizen,  as  THE  OXLY  AUTHOIIIZED 
EDITIOX  of  the  works  of  the  lamented  Senator  who  was  for  so  many 
years,  identified  with  every  important  question  relating  to  the  nation's  prosper- 
ity, honor,  and  existence,  and  who  was,  for  almost  a  generation,  the  acknowl- 
edged leader  in  the  cause  of  human  rights.  This  edition  will  be  elegantly 
printed,  on  tinted  paper,  at  the  University  Press,  from  new  type,  will  contain 
an  exact  portrait  of  Mr.  Sumner,  and  will  be  furnished  with  a  complete  Ana- 
lytical and  Topical  Index. 

This  great  enterprise  has  received  from  prominent  men  in  public  life  and  in 
literary  pursuits,  a  hearty  indorsement  which  confirms  the  publishers  in  their 
long-cherished  opinion  that  public  sentiment  demanded  an  edition  like  this, 
and  that  longer  delay  in  the  publication  would  have  been  a  dereliction  in  duty 
to  the  country,  and  to  the  cause  of  human  rights  throughout  the  world. 

T/tt'  Standard  Bacon. 

BACON'S    ESSAYS. 

WITH  ANNOTATIONS   BY  ARCHBISHOP  WHATELY. 

[new  edition.] 

This  Edition  contains  a  Preface,  Notes,  and  Glossarial  Index,  by  F.  F.  HEARD, 
Esq.,  of  the  Boston  Bar.    041  pages. 


Student's  Edition,  post  8vo,  $2.50 

Library  Edition,  8vo,  cloth,  .  .  3.50 

Half  calf,  marbled  edges,  ....  6.00 


Library  Edition,  Svo. 
Half  Turkey,  gilt  top,  .  .  .  #6.00 
Full  mor.  ant.,  ffilt  edges,    9.00 


The  first  in  time,  and  we  may  justly  say  the  first  in  excellence,  of  English 
writings  on  moral  prudence,  are  the  Essays  of  Bacon.  The  transcendent 
sti'cngth  of  Bacon's  mind  is  visible  in  the  whole  tenor  of  these  Essays.  They 
are  deeper  and  more  discriminating  than  any  earlier,  or  almost  any  later  work 
in  the  English  language;  full  of  i-econdite  observations,  long  matured,  and 
carefully  sifted. 

"  Few  books  are  more  quoted,  and,  what  is  not  always  the  case  with  such  books,  we  may 
add  that  few  are  more  generally  read."  —  [H.^ll.mh's  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of 
Europe.  . '.  .'.  "The  best  known  and  the  most  popular  of  all  his  works.  It  is  also 
one  of  those  where  the  superiority  of  his  genius  appears  to  tlie  greatest  advantage." — [Du- 
GALD  Stewart.  .•.  .".  Prof.  Matthews,  of  the  Chicago  University,  says ''that,  if  com- 
pelled to  limit  his  rending  to  one  human  composition,  he  would  choose  Bacon's  Essays, 
with  Archbishop  Whately's  Annotations." — [Interior,  Chicago. 


55°  Sold  by  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,   Publishers.  Boston. 


BOOKS   PUBLISHED   BY  LEE   &   SHEPARD.  . 
UNIFORM  WITH  THE  ''BOOK  OF  AMERICAN  EXPLORERS r 


YOUNG   FOLKS' 

HiSTOi^i^  OF  THE  United  States. 

BY 

THOMAS   WENTWORTH   HIGGINSON. 
Square  i6ino.    380  pp.    With  over  100  Illustrations.    Price  $1.50. 


The  theory  0/ the  book  can  be  briefly  stated:  it  is,  that  American  history  is  in 
itself  one  0/  the  most  attractive  of  all  subjects,  and  can  be  made  interesting  to  old 
and  young  by  being  presented  in  a  simple,  clear,  and  graphic  -way.  In  this  book 
only  such  natnes  and  dates  are  introduced  as  are  necessary  to  secure  a  clear  and 
definite  thread  of  connected  incident  in  tlu  mind  of  tJie  reader  ;  and  the  space  thus 
saved  is  devoted  to  illustrative  traits  and  incidents,  and  tlie  details  of  daily  living. 
By  this  -meatis  it  is  believed  tliat  much  more  can  be  conveyed,  even  of  t/te  philosophy 
of  history,  than  where  this  is  overlaid  and  hidden  by  a  mass  of  mere  statistics. 

"Compact,  clear,  and  accurate.  .  .  .  This  unpretending  little  book  is  the  best 
general  history  of  the  United  States  we  have  seen.''  —  Tlie  Nation. 

"The  book  is  so  written,  that  every  child  old  enough  to  read  history  at  all  will 
understand  and  like  it,  and  persons  of  the  fullest  information  and  purest  taste  will 
admire  it."  —  Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  It  is  marvellous  to  note  how  happily  Mr.  Higginson,  in  securing  an  amazing  com- 
pactness by  his  condensation,  has  avoided  alike  superficiality  and  dulness."  —  Boston 
Transcript, 

AS  A  TEXT-BOOK  IN  SCHOOLS. 

One  of  the  most  successful  teachers  in  Boston  says,  "  I  am  confident  that  the  text- 
book has  proved  itself  as  reliable  and  comprehensive  as  it  certainly  is  suggestive  and 
entertaining.  I  know  no  book  more  helpful  in  promoting  that  crystallizing  process 
in  the  student's  own  mind  by  which  the  accessories  and  details  group  themselves 
around  the  main  facts  and  ideas  of  the  narration.  On  this  account,  it  is  equally  valua- 
ble to  teachers  and  scholars,  to  the  examined  and  the  examiners." 

This  work  has  been  translated  into  German,  and  has  been  received  with  marked 
favor.  The  Leipsic  literary  correspondent  of  the  "  New-York  Staats-Zeitung  "  says, 
that,  in  its  German  version,  it  is  pronounced  exceedingly  interesting  (Jidchst  anzie- 
hende) ;  and  predicts  that  it  will  inspire  universal  dehght  (fillgemeine  Beliebtheit)  in 
German  readers. 

The  Beriin  "  International  Gazette  "  says,  "  Mr.  Higginson  has  executed  his  task 
in  a  very  clear  and  lucid  manner,  not  making  use  of  any  hard  aphorisms,  so  puzzling 
to  the  young,  but  placing  himself  on  their  level,  and  explaining  every  thing  in  so  easy 
and  gentle  a  manner,  that  he  must  be  a  very  dull  or  a  very  perverse  scholar,  who  does 
not  find  his  attention  riveted." 

•»•  Sold  by  all  Booksellers,  and  sent  by  mail  on  receipt  0/ price. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers, 

41  Franklin  Strbbt,  Boston. 


BOOKS  PUBLISHED  BY  LEE  &  SHEPAED. 

Just  Rbadv. 
A  New  Work  by  the  Author  of  t!ie  Young  Folk^  History  of  the  UniUd  StaUt, 


YOUNG    FOLKS' 
BoOKOF  AlMERICAN  ExPLOI\EE\S 

BY 

THOMAS  WENTWORTH    HIGGINSON. 

Uniform  with  the  Young  Folks'  History  of  the  U.  S.    One  vol.     Fully  illustrated. 
PricBi  $1.50. 


The  Young  Folks'  Book  of  American  Explorers  is  as 
distinctly  a  "new  departure"  in  our  historical  literature  as  was 
its  predecessor,  the  "Young  Folks'  History  of  the  United 
States."  The  "  Book  of  American  Explorers "  is  a  series  of 
narratives  of  discovery  and  adventure,  told  in  the  precise  words 
of  the  discoverers  themselves.  It  is  a  series  of  racy  and  inter- 
esting extracts  from  original  narratives,  or  early  translations  of 
such  narratives.  These  selections  are  made  with  care,  so  as  to 
give  a  glimpse  at  the  various  nationalities  engaged,  —  Norse* 
Spanish,  French,  Dutch,  English,  etc.,  —  and  are  put  together  in 
order  of  time,  with  the  needful  notes  and  explanations.  The 
ground  covered  may  be  seen  by  the  following  list  of  subjects 
treated  in  successive  chapters  :  —  The  Traditions  of  the  Norse- 
men ;  Columbus  and  his  Companions;  Cabot  and  Verrazzano  ; 
The  Strange  Voyage  of  Cabeza  de  Vaca ;  The  French  in  Canada  ; 
Hernando  de  Soto  ;  The  French  in  Florida ;  Sir  Humphrey 
Gilbert ;  The  Lost  Colonies  of  Virginia ;  Unsuccessful  New 
England  Settlements  ;  Captain  John  Smith  in  Virginia  ;  Cham- 
plain  on  the  War-Path ;  Henry  Hudson  and  the  New  Nether- 
lands ;  The  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth ;  The  Massachusetts  Bay 
Colony. 

Besides  the  legends  of  the  Norsemen,  the  book  makes  an 
almost  continuous  tale  of  adventure  from  1492  to  1630,  all  told 
in  the  words  of  the  explorers  themselves.  This  is,  it  is  believed, 
a  far  more  attractive  way  of  telling  than  to  rewrite  them  in  the 
words  of  another ;  and  it  is  hoped  that  it  may  induce  young 
people  to  explore  for  themselves  the  rich  mine  of  historical 
adventure  thus  laid  open. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


BOOKS  PUBLISIIED  BY  LEE  &  SHEPARD. 

"  Such  a  Book  as  I  s/iojtld  like  to  see  in  Every  Family,^'' 
Says  the  Superiutcndent  of  Public  Schools,  Boston,  of 

THE  HAND-BOOK  OF 

ENGLISH  LITERATURE. 

By  FRANCIS   H.  UNDERWOOD,  A.  M. 

Author  of  "  Hand-Book  of  American  Literature." 
Ckown  8vo.    #2.50. 

"Winning    Golden    Opinions" 

Not  only  as  the  best  text-book  for  schools,  but  as  a  book  of  Elegant  Extracts 
from  the  whole  range  of  English  authors,  beginning  with  Chaucer  and  ending 
with  the  popular  writers  of  our  day.  The  selections  are  accompanied  by  brief 
Biographical  Sketches,  which  of  themselves  have  been  highly  commended 
as  models  of  condensation  and  brevity.     Says  a  critic,  — 

"  It  is  so  fascinating  as  to  fetter  the  attention  of  the  general  reader,  and  stimulate  him  to 
make  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  his  mother  tongue." 

The  extent  of  ground  gone  over  is  immense,  and  the  arrangement  of  the 
various  kinds  of  information  given  is  made  in  the  most  convenient  manner. 
An  historical  introduction  gives  a  clear  and  succinct  account  of  the  origin  and 
development  of  the  English  language.  To  those  familiar  with  the  sources  of 
literary  wealth  the  reading  of  a  page  will  spur  the  memory  to  pleasant  recol- 
lections ;  and  for  others  who  have  neither  time  nor  opportunity  for  extensive 
reading,  a  pleasant  and  easy  way  is  given  for  acquiring  some  acquaintance  with 
many  literaiy  styles. 

|J[3°'  As  a  text-book  for  students,  it  is  undeniably  the  best  ever  published. 

'''Much  Superior  to  any  previous  Work  of  the  Kind^'' 
Is  the  Universal  Verdict  on 

THE  HAND-BOOK  OF 

AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

By  FRANCIS   H.   UNDERWOOD,  A.  M. 

Crown  8vo.     $2.50. 
A  Complete  List  of  American  Authors, 

With  specimens  of  their  best  eiforts,  covering  a  period  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years,  filling  over  six  hundred  pages  of  prose  and  poetry,  giving  as 
preface,  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  writer,  and  ranging  over  an  ahnost 
infinite  variety  of  subjects.  The  Biographical  Sketches  are  immcasural)ly 
superior  in  value  to  anything  of  the  kind  heretofore  published.  They  are 
admirable  in  their  condensation,  presenting  in  a  nutshell,  as  it  were,  the  points 
and  peculiarities  of  the  ditfcrcnt  minds,  the  complete  portraiture  of  which  is 
admirably  proven  in  tlic  selections  which  follow.  These  make  the  book  a  Man- 
ual of  American  Literature  for  families  and  the  public,  as  well  as  a 
Text-Book  for  High  Schools. 
It  is  a  book  in  which  there  is  a  wider  range  of  reliable  information  with  re- 
gard to  THE  MEN  wuo  HAVE  MADE  OUR  LITERATURE,  aiid  their  Specialties 
of  achievement,  than  can  be  obtained  from  any  other  source. 


55-  Sold  hy  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers. 

LEE    &    SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 


T) 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


Series  9482 


